


i only want sympathy in the form of you crawling into bed with me

by queenhomeslice



Series: Polyship Roadtrip: Reader/Chocobros [7]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Feels, Awkward Tension, Canon-Typical Violence, Choking, Chubby Reader, Consensual Somnophilia, Curvy Reader, Eventual Smut, Face-Sitting, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Marathon Sex, Multi, Near Death Experiences, OT5, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Polyship Roadtrip, Post-Coital Cuddling, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, awkward crushes, everyone is bisexual I guess, fat reader, plus size reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:55:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 21,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26394493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhomeslice/pseuds/queenhomeslice
Summary: Traveling with the Chocobros is delicious, delicious torture.Until it isn't.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia/Reader
Series: Polyship Roadtrip: Reader/Chocobros [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1788748
Comments: 231
Kudos: 163





	1. Ten

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Square Enix or any production studios behind the Final Fantasy franchise or Final Fantasy XV; I am not making money from this work and I do not own the rights to FF in any way. 
> 
> ____  
> Rated Explicit for future chapters. 
> 
> Title from "Dance, Dance" by Fall Out Boy
> 
> Thanks to Thwippersnapple for letting me talk ideas out, as always.

10

You’d be absolutely lying through your teeth if you said that Prince Noctis and his retainers aren’t the hottest group of men you’ve ever seen in your life. It’s why, when you’re actually selected for the Crownsguard, suddenly being in close quarters with them merits a god-tier deflection strategy. 

Which is...simply to not care, and to act like “one of the guys.” 

Feminist leanings aside about traditional gender roles or “the friend zone,” it’s actually the only way to save face. It’s not like it’s _easy_ to pretend like every little thing Ignis does is sexy, or that Gladio isn’t a wet dream on two (very thick and sculpted) legs—but, after a couple of years of knowing the guys, it’s pretty much second nature. It’s the only way to keep from embarrassing the teetotal hell out of yourself, besides. 

Guys like Noctis and Prompto don’t like fat girls, right? Well duh, it’s a given. Noctis is engaged to Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, the Oracle and former princess of Tenebrae, and she’s everything you’re not—petite, blonde, svelte, polished. You’d spent literal years thinking about what kind of woman would suit Gladio and Ignis—probably some tall, leggy tanned supermodel with big tits and a nice ass. Prompto deserves nothing less than a literal angel, someone to match his love of video games, chocobos, and photography, who balances out his anxiety and self-deprecating humor and who’s small enough to wear his hoodies and to make him feel strong and wanted. 

And you are, decidedly, none of those women, real _or_ imagined. So there. 

Maybe they don’t even like girls at all. Honestly that would be easier than keeping secrets about the raw attraction that oozes from your pores every time they’re around, but. C’est la vie, right? You’ve sworn an oath to protect Noctis, to the crown, to Lucis—and it won’t due to have your clitoris do all the thinking instead of your actual brain. 

So. 

Act like one of the guys, and everything will be fine and normal and they will like you and you’ll get stronger; and with any luck, you’ll all get to Altissia without dying along the way. 

Easy, right? 

____

The Regalia breaks down just as Prompto’s learning to keep both hands on the wheel, much to Iggy’s relief. You’d been dozing on Gladio’s shoulder, with Noctis curled up on your lap, almost purring like a fucking cat as you run your short chubby fingers through his hair. The engine sputters to a halt; Prompto curses; Ignis sighs; and Gladio grunts as he shakes you and the prince awake. And after an unsuccessful hitchhiking endeavor—which, okay, _rude_ , you’d even lifted up your shirt for god’s sake—the five of you manage to push the car to Hammerhead station, where you have to endure Prompto’s thoughts on Cindy as you head out to find Dave and take on some hunts. 

The first few battles are tricky, but after a while, you all are getting the hang of fighting, long hours of training finally clicking into place as you take down one daemon after another. No serious injuries yet, nothing a potion can’t fix. After several backs-and-forth to Taaka’s diner, gathering ingredients and collecting bounties, the five of you book it to the haven that’s across the road from the station. 

Ignis prepares what he calls a “Grease Monkey Schnitzel Sandwich,” which has you and the other guys giggling at the title—but it’s an instant favorite of Noctis, and leaves all of you feeling full and refreshed. 

Night falls softly, the setting sun casting pink and orange hues over the desert. Daemons are still prowling about, but the haven and its magical properties keep you all safe. After dinner is cleaned up, Noctis and Prompto settle down together to play King’s Knight. Your phone is dead, charging on the portable battery pack in the tent. Gladio and Iggy are just sitting by the fire, staring into it. 

The silence is peaceful, not awkward like you were afraid it’d be. What _is_ awkward, however, is the underwire of your bra. 

“Dammit, okay—can't take anymore.” You slip your arms inside of your plain black t-shirt and through some careful maneuvering, manage to unclasp your bra. Threading your arms back through the arm holes of your shirt, you draw out the padded torture device from the neck hole, groaning in relief and folding it on your lap, stretching your arms up and rolling your shoulders back. 

It’s then that you finally notice that all of the guys are staring at you. 

“Dude,” says Prompto—and _damn_ , he’s red. Did he get sunburned today? “What sorcery was _that_?” 

You throw a wink his way and Noctis visibly stiffens beside him. “C’mon Prom, never seen a girl take her bra off before?” 

Gladio clears his throat. “Prompto’s never even seen a girl’s bra, period.” 

Prompto whips his head to Gladio. “How do _you_ know?” 

“And Cindy’s little bits of fabric beneath that jacket don’t count,” the shield laughs. 

Ignis is seemingly unaffected, but his emerald gaze is laser-focused on you—his high cheekbones are a dusty shade of pink. 

Is _everyone_ sunburned today? You hold up your bra, dangling one shoulder strap from your finger. “It’s nothin’ special,” you shrug, letting it drop back to your lap. “Hella uncomfortable, if you ask me. A necessary evil.” 

Gladio coughs. “Could always, uh. Not wear it.” 

“Fffff, yeah _okay_ , and have these fat bags flying every which way during battle? I’d knock myself out before a daemon ever got the chance.” 

That makes Prompto and Noctis giggle like twelve-year-olds, and they go back to their mobile game. 

Gladio looks like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t. He just looks at Ignis, who tilts his head. 

You pay the guys no more mind, content to just sit in quiet comradery under the stars before Ignis ushers everyone in the tent like a mother chocobo herding its chicks. 


	2. Nine

9

Ah, the _tent._ You didn’t realize six-person tents existed, but clearly you’d underestimated Gladio’s relationship to Bass Pro Shop. Somehow everyone’s duffel bags and weekenders fit inside, along with five sleeping bags, an ice chest, and a trash bag. The guys fumble in and out of pants, discarding jeans and slacks for pajamas—or in Gladio’s case, black boxer briefs, _hello_ —and briefly close their eyes when you take off your shirt to slip into your soft cotton nightgown. You take your jeans off sitting down, and toss them in a ball to the foot of your sleeping bag. Gladio’s already on his back with his hands behind his head, his strong body only half-inside of the vinyl green sleeping bag. 

“No--wait--” Noctis stops Ignis and Prompto from completely rolling out their bedrolls and bags. He looks at you and bites his lip. “Hey, _________, why don’t you come over here?” 

You shrug. “Okay, whatever you want, Noct.” It really doesn’t matter to you _where_ you sleep. You trust all four of them implicitly, and you can forgive an awkward boner or three—shit happens, right? Nothing personal. It’s not like anyone thinks that way about _you_. You pick up the thick bedroll and sleeping bag and trade places with Prompto, settling down between the blond and the prince. Ignis spreads out next to Gladio, removing his glasses and slipping them into the Armiger. 

Damn. Ignis is so beautiful with his hair down and his glasses off—it's almost like he’s a completely different person. He catches you staring and raises a perfectly-manicured eyebrow. 

“Something wrong, _________?” 

_Yeah, I’ve only been in love with the four of you since I was like, sixteen._ “Nah, I’m good Iggy! But uh. I do like your hair down. You should wear it that way more often.” That’s a neutral compliment, right? A friendly compliment? A compliment that doesn’t say, _I want you to fuck me into oblivion_? 

Maybe this whole trip is going to be harder than you thought. 

Ignis smiles warmly, though, and nods. “I’ll take it into consideration.” 

The thing about Noctis sleeping—and sleeping next to Noctis—is that the prince is basically the human version of a cat. He can fall asleep almost anywhere, and when he’s in la-la-land, he’s the biggest cuddler on the planet. 

You’d discovered this for yourself at one high school sleepover, where you’d woken up in Noct’s bed with the prince plastered to your (very panicked) body, nuzzling his face in places that he shouldn’t have been nuzzling (not like you minded, but fuck it was heartbreaking to get up to pee and spend the rest of the morning on the couch in the living room). 

And now, hoo boy. It threatens to undo all of your carefully-laid plans of not making a fool out of yourself. Because when you lie next to Noctis, the prince doesn’t think twice about hugging you as tightly as he can and murmuring “Soft” into your shoulder blades. This leaves you staring helplessly into the pretty freckled face of Prompto, who’s even redder up close than he was outside. 

“Hey Prom,” you say as you pat Noct’s strong arm that’s squeezing _just_ under your boobs. 

“Hey,” says Prompto, and he sounds like he’s got a frog in his throat. He worries at his bottom lip, violet-blue eyes wide and sparkling. 

Well, if you’re going to hell, might as well go with a bang, right? You spread your arms wide. “Cuddle pile?” 

“Oh hell yeah,” says Prompto, and he slots his lean, shirtless—shirtless, did we mention _shirtless_ —body against yours, throwing his arms over and under you, squeezing you until you’re fit to burst. 

Just great—as if you’re supposed to sleep with the Crown Prince and his equally hot best friend holding onto you like a damn life raft. You hope your pounding heart doesn’t give you away as you try to settle down into something like unconsciousness. Although, if you were wedged between Ignis and Gladio, you’re sure that your poor heart wouldn’t be faring much better. Ah well. It's not like you can be mad at the guys when they don’t even know how head over heels you are for them. 

Somewhere in the middle of the night, Noctis bolts straight up like he’s possessed, sweating and swearing like he’s just been chased by an axe murderer. Ignis fumbles with the lamp and everyone slowly comes out of their sleep to make sure the prince is okay. 

“Just a nightmare,” he says solemnly, shaking his head and running his hands through his soft—so soft, _silky_ soft—black hair. He exhales slowly as you rub soothing circles into his gray t-shirt. “Sorry for waking you, I just...” 

“It’s nothing to worry about, Noct,” says Ignis apologetically. “We’ll have a late start tomorrow. We have plenty of time to kill while we wait for Cindy’s call.” 

“Thanks, Specs,” says Noctis, visibly relaxing as you palm gently over the gnarly scar on his back. “I, uh—can we just stay up. For a little while? Please.” 

“Of course,” says Ignis. “What would you like to do?” 

Noctis thinks for a moment. “Cards?” 

“Blackjack?” asks Gladio, already rummaging in his bag for the deck. 

And if he cares that you saw the bottle of strawberry-flavored lube nestled among his clothes, he doesn’t say anything. It’s not like _you’re_ gonna say anything. But now the image of Gladio using lube—on himself, on one of the guys, on _you_ —is lodged in your little gremlin brain and you can feel your cheeks heat up. 

The big guy zips his bag and turns, tossing the cards to you. “Deal us in, sweetheart.” 

You wrinkle your nose in mock annoyance. “Aw c’mon, why me?” 

“It’ll just be like a real casino,” says Gladio, winking. “A pretty girl to bet against.” 

“I’m not letting you touch my bra if you win.” 

Gladio snaps his fingers in a sweeping motion across his chest. “Damn. Worth a shot.” 


	3. Eight

8

“Last one in, is rotten ghysal greens!” Prompto bolts towards the hot springs, stripping as he trips over his feet. Noctis warps after him, laughing, trying to beat him. You, Ignis, and Gladio bring up the rear, finally cresting over the small hill that shades the springs from the public eye. 

“Was real nice of the hunters to let us know about this place,” says Gladio, shouldering a bag full of toiletries and towels. 

The five of you are a few miles away from the hunter’s headquarters in Meldacio, and eager to soak away the grit and grime of the past week. 

“Indeed,” says Ignis, unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt as you approach one of the large, steaming pools. “Some relaxation is in order. I’m so pleased we were able to find this natural goat’s milk soap in Lestallum. I’d hate to ruin the integrity of the hot springs’ ecosystem.” 

Damn Ignis—why does his talking about fucking _soap_ get you all hot and bothered? You sneak closer to his side and casually bump against him. 

Ignis smiles and lifts his arm and places it around your shoulders, squeezing tightly. “Ready to soak in the hot water, love?” 

You close your eyes and pretend that it’s just you and Ignis, that “love” is more than friendly pet name that drips from his sultry, posh voice. You open your eyes and look up at him, smiling. His green eyes are shining behind his glasses, full lips curved into a wide smile. It takes every iota of willpower that you possess not to stretch up on tippy-toes and kiss him. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you’d registered Noctis and Prompto getting full naked and jumping into the hot springs, howling at the heat. When you and the other guys approach, they are settled close to each other, whispering and giggling to themselves. 

Noctis looks up as you approach, watching Gladio bend down to fish out the bars of soap from the bags. “So uh,” he says, gesturing. “Girl.” 

You roll your eyes. “I’ll turn around until Gladio and Iggy are in—and then you guys can close your eyes for me. No big deal.” 

Noctis looks like he wants to protest but ultimately shrugs. 

You turn around and stare out into the lush forests surrounding the bubbling hot springs, cheeks burning with arousal. You’re really glad you’re not a dude—you'd probably have a boner almost 24/7 around the guys. You’re relieved when Ignis shouts that you can begin undressing. 

Slipping into the hot water, you audibly moan as your aching bones are greeted with the surge of heat from the water. You keep careful distance from the guys—close enough to still hold conversation, but far enough away to keep from trying to spy on them under the water. 

“Okay,” you say, once you’re sitting on the man-made stone stools that have been placed at the bottom of the shallow pool. Thankfully, the water bubbles consistently, and the haze of the steam helps keep most of your bodies hidden. You grab one of the soap bars and begin to rub it all over your thick body under the water, scrubbing through your hair when you’re through with your skin. 

“This feels so amazing,” sighs Prompto, leaning back on the side of the pool and putting his elbows up on the rocky ledge. 

“Damn right,” says Gladio, sinking lower, letting his long hair fan out in the water. He blows bubbles from his nostrils, making even Ignis chuckle. “We really needed this.” 

“Is it to your liking, Noct?” asks Ignis, turning to the prince. 

Noct’s been staring at you with a curious expression—you've largely been avoiding his gaze, choosing to focus on washing the caked-on dirt and daemon guts from your skin and your hair. 

“Huh?” he says, finally registering Iggy’s words. “Uh, yeah, it’s fine, Specs. Feels real good on my knee.” 

“I can rub your knee for you,” you blurt out as you lean your head back in the water to get the soap out. Goat’s milk soap isn’t the fancy shampoo from the Leville, but at least you know your hair will be clean from oil and blood, at any rate. 

The silence that follows is deafening. You bring your head up, clutching the soap bar, and stare at the four guys. 

“Oh--” Noct starts, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “You don’t gotta do that, ________, it’s fine, I’ll be okay--” 

“Hey,” you say, daring to slide a little closer to the guys. “C’mon, man, I’m your healer. What good am I if I can’t heal you? At least let me try to rub some stiffness from it.” 

Noctis grunts low in his throat but nods anyway. Prompto moves away so you can wedge in on the prince’s left side. Noctis sinks lower into the water and lifts his leg, planting his foot on your thigh. You concentrate and call forth the well of healing magic that’s inside of you as you gently begin to rub Noct’s stiff joint. 

You’d be lying if you said that having your hands on Noct’s bare leg didn’t twist your gut in the best—and worst—possible way. Every so often you glance at Noct’s face, softened under your ministrations and the soothing water of the hot spring. You focus on his fucked-up knee, grinding deep into the old scar tissue and soothing it with magic. The moans that he’s making under your touch is something straight out of your dirtiest fantasies. You can hear the slight sloshing of the water as the others move to scrub themselves clean. 

“____________,” says Prompto. 

“Huh?” You look up from Noct’s bent leg on your lap and make eye contact with Prompto. 

The steam that’s curling up to encircle Prompto’s face gives him a hazy, ethereal glow that makes him more angelic-looking than usual, and your heart breaks that much more. 

He worries at his bottom lip and flicks his eyes to the side. “Do you, uh—need help washing your back?” 

“Oh, uh, sure! If you want to, yeah. That’d be great.” You focus your attentions back on Noct’s knee—the prince is actually dozing, head thrown back on the rocks lining the pool—and shiver in pleasure as Prompto drags the bar of soap over your bare back and washes you with his long trigger fingers. 

When all of you are satisfied and looking like old prunes at the farmer’s market, the guys motion for you to get out first and get dressed. 

“Go on and head back to the Regalia,” says Gladio, standing up in the water. 

“You sure?” 

Ignis catches your gaze and nods. “We’ll be right behind you, darling. Don’t worry—there shouldn’t be any daemons near enough to cause you harm.” 

Prompto makes a move under the water and bites his tongue, looking away hurriedly as he leans into the still-dozing prince. 

You watch as the bubbles dance along the deep v-cut of Gladio's hips, _just_ above his groin, where you’re a hundred percent certain that a monster cock is lying in wait between his thick, muscular thighs. Feeling your cheeks heat up, you sling your towel around your neck and turn, meandering back to the car. Behind you, you can hear the hushed whispers of the guys climbing from the hot spring and getting dressed. You feel loose, limber, and warm—you think that tonight might be a good night to rub one out while everyone is asleep. 


	4. Seven

7

Okay—realistically, you know on some level that guys stare at your boobs, whether they intentionally mean to or not. You’d developed early and have had way too many inappropriate come-ons to count. There was no hiding your ample chest, and it’s not like you can help your anatomy. 

Which is why, when the five of you emerge from another royal tomb to see the deluge of rain that’s pouring down in buckets outside, you don’t think twice about the white t-shirt you’re wearing. 

The chocobos don’t seem to mind the rain, even as the thunder clatters overhead and the sky grows darker by the minute. 

“Shit,” says Noctis, dusting his hands on his pants. “We just did the fuckin’ laundry, too.” 

“I’m sure Wiz will allow us to use his facilities again, Noct,” says Ignis, already shrugging off his blazer and handing it to Noctis. He removes his glasses and slips them into the Armiger, looking at Prompto and Gladio. “Back to the ranch, then?” 

“Sounds good, Igster,” says Prompto. “Anything to get out of this weather.” 

Gladio laughs and slaps him on the back. “C’mon, Blondie, a little rain won’t hurt ya.” 

“Dude,” Prompto whines. “This is more than rain. This is a tsunami.” 

“Oh please,” Gladio teases back, rolling his eyes. 

Ignis smirks and looks at you. “All right with you, ________?” 

You nod, already starting to shiver in the torrential downpour. “Yeah, Iggy. I’m down to wait out the weather back in the caravan at the ranch.” 

“At least Lucretia is getting a good bath,” sighs Prompto, petting the large yellow bird. 

Gladio raises an eyebrow. “You _named_ it?” 

“ _Her_ ,” Prompto corrects. “And, uh, yeah! How am I supposed to build a good relationship with my trusty steed if she doesn’t have a name?” 

Noctis grins wide as he wipes his hair from his eyes and mounts his chocobo, holding Iggy’s blazer over his head once he’s seated. “I named mine after you, Prom.” 

Prompto manages to flush red, even through the cold rain. “Bro,” he says softly. 

Gladio winks as he climbs onto his own bird. “So when you shout ‘Dumbass’, how will Prompto know the difference?” 

“ _Hey!”_

“Gentlemen, please,” says Ignis. 

“Boys,” you sigh, putting your hands on your hips, shaking your head in mock annoyance. 

It’s then that the guys fall silent. You climb up onto your chocobo, Lady, and look to Ignis for direction. They’re all staring at you, a little slack-jawed, with rosy pink faces. 

“Uh,” you say, tightening your grip on Lady’s reins. “Do I...have something on my face?” 

Ignis coughs. “No, darling, not at all.” 

“Here,” says Gladio tightly, moving his bird to trot next to you. He takes off his black shirt—okay, hello, how the hell are you supposed to focus with Gladio being _shirtless_ all over the place—and hands it to you. 

“Uh,” you say again, taking it. 

“Bra,” Gladio manages to grit out. 

Oh. 

You look down, and sure enough, your white t-shirt is soaked through, black bra on display underneath the wet fabric. You sigh. _Of all the embarrassing_ \-- 

“Thanks,” you mumble, flipping his shirt around and putting your arms through the sleeve holes, so that the back of his shirt is covering your front. You flick your gaze up to your friends and smile. “Sorry.” 

“No worries!” quips Prompto, eyes wide in mild panic. 

You nod to Ignis and the five of you push your chocobos back in the direction of Wiz’s ranch, your heart pounding with anxiety the entire way back. 

______ 

After the chocobos are back in their stables and a few more hunts are completed for Wiz in exchange for another two nights in the caravan, Ignis gets busy in the tiny kitchenette, preparing some ground dualhorn meat he’d butchered earlier in the day. You offer to help chop the potatoes to make fries in the tiny oven, if only for an excuse to literally stand hip to hip with Ignis, basking in his warmth. In the middle of it all, Noctis comes and threads his arms around your plush stomach, sighing deeply into your shoulder blades and whining about how tired he is. It makes your heart swell with affection, and you feel fit to burst by the time you’ve coated the fries in oil and placed them on the pan. The prince is drooling on your shoulder, and Gladio has to come peel him off and place him in the queen bed in the back of the camper for a power nap. 

“Listen...about earlier,” you say, slowly swallowing the grilled hamburgers Ignis made on the caravan’s small gas range. 

Noctis looks up, mouth full of fries, and shakes his head. “S’okay,” he mutters. 

“Highness,” says Ignis. “Manners, please. There are ladies present.” 

“Psh, me?” You chuckle, waving your hand. “Seriously, though. Sorry. Didn’t mean for you guys to get an eyeful.” 

“Please don’t let anxiety eat you up,” says Ignis, laying a warm hand on your shoulder. 

“I mean, I’m pretty comfortable around you guys, it’s just...ugh. I’m still embarrassed.” 

“Don’t be, _________,” says Prompto, smiling softly. 

“Shit happens,” says Gladio, lightly punching you on the other shoulder, honey amber eyes twinkling in the dim light of the RV. 

After everyone’s washed up—and clothes strung up to dry inside the camper—Gladio settles on the bottom bunk to read, and Noctis and Prompto huddle together on the top bunk, phones plugged in and King’s Knight going strong. 

“Specs, play with us. We know you have a bunch of seven-star characters,” Noctis whines. “I gotta get in my daily co-op missions.” 

Ignis sighs. “Very well.” He rises from the couch to dig in a bag and brings out a tablet, settling back down onto the dusty brown cushions. 

He looks so good like this—hair down, in sweatpants and a hoodie, relaxed in a rare few moments of peace. He boots up the device and launches the app. You can’t help but drag your soft cotton blanket over your shoulders, snuggling into his side as you watch him play. The small uptick of his full lips makes your heart swell, and the last things you remember of the evening are the victory catchphrases of the tiny 8-bit video game characters.


	5. Six

6

  
Your first encounter with Prince Noctis was when you were ten years old. Your fifth-grade brain hadn’t really registered that the quiet black-haired boy was the crown prince of the whole country—only that he didn’t talk to anyone and was alone at lunch and at recess. You yourself were chubby, shy, and already bigger than most of the other little girls in your class—so loneliness? Yeah, you could relate. 

As a child who was more interested in saving worms from sidewalks after a heavy rain than getting into your run of the mill childhood tussles, you’d never expected to act out the way you did that fateful day. 

It was at one of those lonely recesses, where you were more interested in reading a book than running around and getting all sweaty (and then having to be not only the fat kid but the fat and  _sweaty_ kid, no thank you), that you decided to sit next to Noctis on one of the swings in the school’s playground. He didn’t say anything for a long time, not until you swallowed your shyness—and slight stutter—and peeked at him out of the corner of your eye. 

“Hey,” you said quietly. 

A long pause, and then barely a whisper, “Hi.”

Placing your bookmark in between the pages of the thick paperback, you set the book on your lap and turned to look at Noct. 

“I’m __________.”

“Noct.”

“Cool, Noct.” Well, what now? The boy was talking, which was a start. He didn’t look weird or mean or anything, he was just...quiet. Like you. “So uh...whaddaya like to do for fun?”

More long pauses, then, a small smile. “I like fishing.”

“Oh, cool. Is it hard? My dad fishes in the public park sometimes, but he always throws them back.”

“Sometimes my dad drives down to Galdin Quay for a weekend trip. We fish off the pier and eat seafood and sleep in a tent on the bench. Fishing’s easy, I think. Relaxing, too.”

Most of the other girls in your class have boys that they get super giggly around, or hold hands with—sometimes the boy and girl will wear matching bracelets, or always sit together at lunch. This meant that they were “going steady.” Well—Noct was pretty cute, and he had a nice voice, and you’d never seen him with another girl, so maybe...

“Hey, check it out! Prince Noctis is talking to the whale!”

Ah, there it was. Innocent children, angels from heaven, amiright? You felt your cheeks start to heat up as you glanced from Noct to the group of schoolyard bullies.

“Shut up and leave us alone,” you blurted before Noctis could even say anything.

Of course. How could you forget? You were the whale—the one that caused earthquakes on the bus, wide load, little miss piggy. You’d heard every name under the sun at this point. 

Noctis surely wouldn’t want to go steady with you. He’d probably like some other thinner, prettier, more popular girl. 

But maybe he’d at least want to be friends...if you could manage to get the bullies off of your backs. 

“Ooooooh, little miss piggy wants to fight back,” the largest of the three boys teased with a smirk.

Joke’s on him, you topped him by a half-inch.

“We’re just talking, Damian. Leave us alone.” You rose from the swing before you even realized what your body was doing, letting your book fall to the brown mulch below.

“Ha ha, just talking. And then what? Surely you don’t think the prince would go steady with someone like you, huh, wide load?” Damian laughed, cracking his thin knuckles menacingly.

“I don’t care about that,” you lied. “Go pick on someone else, he hasn’t done anything to you.” It’s somewhere around this point that the repeated title of  _prince_ clicks in your tiny, underdeveloped brain—and suddenly, the jeers make sense. “Leave him alone,” you repeated, fat little feet carrying you to the edge of the mulched terrain that cushioned the swing set. 

Something had snapped, some hidden rage in your prepubescent jiggly body that had become too big very suddenly in the past year and a half. Maybe it was the constant teasing from boys and girls who used to be neutral towards you, at best. Maybe it was the fact that you’d only ever hit a pillow in frustration, never a person. Maybe it was some eerie foreshadowing, knowing that nine years in the future, you’d be kneeling before King Regis and swearing an oath of service. 

Whatever it was, the proverbial dam broke in that split second to unleash a deluge of pent-up childhood rage—your chubby hand connected with Damian’s jaw, and the scrawny redhead fell into a crumpled pile as though he’d been bashed in the kneecaps. Screaming and crying, you’d straddled him, putting all your weight on his skinny torso as you wailed on him.

After a few punches—he started to cry, which made you feel oddly vindicated—his other two lackies managed to dog pile on you and their leader, pulling your hair and scratching your arms, doing everything they could get you off of him. 

It all ended with the four of you suspended for a week, some bruises and scratches on your end, and a black eye and a missing tooth for Damian. As you’d walked back to class to get your backpack from your desk, Noctis caught you by the fat wrist and pulled you into an awkward hug.

“Thanks for sticking up for me,” he’d whispered. “That was really brave of you.”

Pulling back from his warm embrace, you smiled. “It was nothin.’ See you in a week, I guess.”

“I’ll take notes for you.” 

——————

“Hey, ____________. You alive down there?”

You slowly return to consciousness, feeling warm and stiff as you remember where you are:

With Noct, on some old pier that juts put into the middle of a lake in a forest in the Duscae region. You can see the sun shining through the pine trees, making the crystal blue water sparkle like diamonds. 

The warmth underneath you is coming from the prince’s slender thigh, which you’d been using as a makeshift pillow. You can hear the light conversation of the other guys nearby—Prompto’s proclamations about perfect scenery, Ignis’ delight at finding wild onions, Gladio’s offer to taste-test whatever dish he’ll come up with using what Noctis reels in.

“Sorry,” you mumble into his dark jeans. “Guess all this relaxation got to me.”

Noctis reels in his line, checks the lure, and recasts it slightly to the left.

“You’re fine,” he says, dropping one hand from his rod to ruffle your thick hair. “You were uh. Kinda mumbling in your sleep.”

“Oh. I was ...kinda dreaming. About the day we met, do you remember?”

The prince laughs. “How could I forget? You beat up three boys. Talk about a first impression!”

“Yeah...sorry about that.”

“Are you kidding? I talked to Iggy about that for literally  _weeks_ !” Noct stills his hand but keeps it on your head.

Your stomach does somersaults as you try to breathe normally. “A regular knight in shining armor I was,” you say. “I don’t know what happened that day. I just fucking snapped.”

Noctis sighs in contentment. “You’re still my knight in shining armor. You were the only one to ask me a personal question and not something related to, I dunno, having a big house or lots of servants or the same dumb shit I’d heard forever.”

“Yeah?” You swallow hard. “Glad I was different.” You turn your head to look up at the underside of Noct’s jaw.

The prince looks down to make eye contact with you, and he grins so widely, teeth and all, that you  almost  _almost_ reach up to drag his lips to meet yours. 

You chicken out as usual, and Noctis just says, “You’re different, and you’re you—and I’m so glad.”

The validation is just as good. 


	6. Five

5 

It’s a steady routine across the desert—hazy horizons that sometimes seem stuck in a twilight glow, long days of camping that bleed into one another, only to be dotted with neon motel signs, playing cards, and cheap liquor— 

It’s a kind of rhythm, slow and steady like the turtle ambling on towards the finish line—chasing gods, killing monsters, driving, blowing up an Imperial base, raiding two-thousand year old tombs like you’re Indiana fucking Jones. 

But you wouldn’t trade it for anything. It’s not like you have a choice—none of you have a home to go back to, and the guys have been your home for so long, it feels weird to think about any other dynamic. 

It’s like watching a movie, sometimes—the way Noctis and Prompto bump knees when they sit together playing King’s Knight, or the way Ignis looks at Gladio and smiles when he hands the shield a cup of coffee in the morning—the way Gladio carries Prompto on his back after a rough fight, and the way Ignis says “Noct,” like he’s in total rapture, even when you all are doing the most mundane shit. 

There’s a boa constrictor around your heart most days, and you’re just wondering when you’re going to burst. 

You’re on the road back to Lestallum, but a slight deviation has taken the Regalia to a truck stop, where Ignis can pay a flat fee for showers and laundry, and where curatives are actually cheaper there than at independent retailers. 

Gladio’s out pumping the gas and checking the tires while Ignis pays for services; Noctis and Prompto have wandered to the chip aisle like unsupervised toddlers. You hang around the cash register, waiting to be handed a shower token for the women’s side, idly spinning the rack of postcards. They’re five for five gil, and hey, they might make a nice souvenir—something to frame in some future house or apartment. You pick the prettiest ones and slide in behind Ignis. 

The advisor thanks the clerk for his purchases and turns, lifting an eyebrow as you dig some change from your shorts. “Postcards, love?” 

You have a half a mind to chastise Ignis for being so sexy when he’s just asking a damn question about mass-produced gas station cards, but the reprimand dies on your tongue, so you settle for your best smile instead. “Just a little something, I guess. I dunno.” 

“Hm.” Ignis waits for you to pay, and hands you your shower token once you’re out of line. “Thirty minutes of shower time was the cheapest route, I’m afraid.” 

“Dude, thirty minutes of endless hot water? I’m not complaining.” 

Ignis smiles and slides his arm around your shoulders, and you try not to think too much about it as you slip the postcards into your back pocket. 

Your shower ends, and although you’re forced to dress back into the outfit you’d been wearing for over 24 hours, you’re decidedly less gross than you were this morning, so it’s still a win. When you walk back out to where the Regalia’s parked, there’s no sign of the guys, so you take it upon yourself to carry the trash bags of dirty clothes around to the coin laundry in the back of the truck stop. 

It’s deserted, so you make quick work of putting all of your clothes into one washer—including the bra and underwear you’re wearing, leaving you just in leggings and an oversized t-shirt—before meandering to the dispenser on the wall to purchase detergent and dryer sheets. You separate out the guy’s clothes, check pockets, and load up four more washing machines with their laundry, losing yourself in fanfiction on your half-dead phone to kill time. 

“Oh,” says Gladio, walking in, letting the door slam behind him. The little bell hanging from the jamb jingles wildly. “Thought you’d ditched us, sweetheart.” 

You look up from your phone—everything is in the dryer, now, thankfully; all clothes are clean, except for what everyone is currently wearing. “Ffffff, where would I go? Someone’s gotta look out for you losers.” 

“Alight, that's fair,” laughs the shield, coming up to the industrial washing machine you’re sitting cross-legged on. The only sound in the laundromat is the rumble of five dryers, and the _clink-clink_ of zippers and buttons on the inside drums every few seconds. You put your phone down and stare at him as he approaches, damp hair in a cute man-bun on top of his head. He’s in a black tank top and jeans, beefy muscles on display; he smells like cedar and looks like the cover of a _Men’s Health_ magazine. He plants his long arms on either side of your fat thighs and rests his hands on your hips. 

It’s overwhelmingly intimate, and you struggle not to cry, because you’re feeling things you’re not supposed to feel. 

“You okay?” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “You’ve been a little weird lately. Noct’s worried about you.” 

_I’m in love with him. I’m in love with you. I’m in love with all four of you and you can’t love me back_. Unspoken as always, you shake away the words. “I’m fine. Sorry. Just tired.” 

“Hm,” says Gladio. “I don’t buy it.” And he leans forward, inches from your face-- 

The bell jingles, and Ignis walks into the coin laundry, Noctis and Prompto in tow. Gladio clicks his tongue and reels back, turning to greet them. 

“Slowpokes,” he teases. 

“Fuck off,” says Noctis scrubbing at his eyes. 

“Oh man, are the clothes almost dry? I can’t wait to be totally clean.” Prompto’s hair is void of product, shiny and flat and messy—it's reminiscent of high school and it makes your stomach turn in the best-worst way. 

“Dunno, I’ve lost track of time in here,” you say, turning in Gladio’s grip to glance back at the row of rumbling machines. 

“I appreciate you getting a head start,” says Ignis, smiling. “You didn’t have to do this.” 

“Well I just...wanna be helpful,” you shrug. _Anything_ to take some miniscule weight from Iggy’s shoulders. “You already do so much. And I was the first one out, so. Made sense.” 

Prompto suddenly flushes red and puts his head in his hands. “Oh nooooooo,” he sighs into his palms. 

“What,” says Noctis, digging in his ear. 

“You did our laundry,” says Prompto, peeking through his hands. “You saw my _underwear_.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “Dude. I’ve seen you guys half-naked like...a zillion times by now. What’s the point of me seeing you in your boxers versus me washing them?” You shrug. “S’just clothes.” 

“It’s--I--” Prompto groans into his gloves. 

“Aw, you’ve scandalized our little virgin maiden,” Gladio chuckles. “You’ve offended his delicate constitution.” 

“Spare him, Gladiolus,” says Ignis, moving behind the row of washers to check the dryers. 

“Be careful not to show any ankles, Prompto.” 

“Oh, fuck you.” Prompto drops his hands, but his face is still dusted pink, and he laser-focuses on Ignis as the adviser opens up a door to check the clothes inside. 


	7. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW/CW on this chapter for angst and near-death situations

4

It’s not often that hunts go wrong. Like, _really_ wrong. But sometimes, it does happen. Your healing magic goes a long way, but you can only do so much before needing to pop an elixir, and then when _those_ are out, well—it's potions for everyone, and you resort to lobbing elemental flasks at enemies and shooting your own gun alongside of Prompto from the sidelines. 

But you’re all still three hours from Lestallum, on a very dangerous hunt for some elder coeurls just outside of the Taelpar Rest Area. The hunt is dangerous, but the payout is more money than you can wrap your head around. The five of you sneak quietly into the habitat that’s supposed to house the powerful enemies—Thoemmel Glade, home of not just one, but _three_ of the bigger, more powerful daemons. Noctis spots them in the distance and materializes his engine blade. 

“I’m taking the middle one,” the prince says, dripping confidence and skill, smirking as he grips his sword. 

He's so sexy when he’s a cocky little shit, it’s so unfair. 

Everyone nods and summons their own weapons. You sigh in deep concentration, closing your eyes as you draw forth your magic, ready to support your four friends. 

Ignis makes eye contact with you, and you nod, clenching your fist. 

“Let’s do it,” you say. 

“Back us up, baby girl,” says Gladio, squeezing your shoulder. 

The adrenaline is pumping, and Ignis is directing Prompto and Gladio to fight in tandem with one another to bring down the two elder coeurls on Noct’s flank. You skirt around the daemons, alternating between the _curaga_ spell for your allies and various elemental attacks—you figure out quickly that fire seems to weaken them more, so you concentrate on timed fire attacks in-between the guys wailing on them with their weapons. 

Ignis has their attacks timed and planned out like clockwork—it's so easy to get lost in watching Ignis’ daring acrobatics with his polearm, or Gladio’s display of strength when he sweeps his giant sword over his head, or Prompto’s consistent headshots with his heavy firearms, or Noct’s ethereal warping, dancing swords around him like an all-powerful halo. 

Noct manages to take down the middle one he’d targeted, and Ignis and Gladio fell the one on his left. Prompto skirts back to reload his Quicksilver, and you cast some healing his way, as well as on the other three—but then you feel suddenly drained and fatigued. Your magic is running low, so you pull an ether from the armiger and down it to restore yourself. The third elder coeurl darts away from its downed brothers, and circles around in a wide berth. Noctis, Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto take a few seconds to down some potions, slowly easing towards the retreating third daemon. You emerge from your vantage point to join them, crouched beside them with a few final fire spells at the ready. 

Noctis is couple of feet ahead of the other three, but you’re standing right next to him—he holds his engine blade outstretched in his left hand, but claps you on the shoulder with his right. 

“Thanks,” he says, voice tired but eyes flashing red with the adrenaline of the ongoing battle. He doesn’t look at you, only eyes the coeurl that’s pacing back and forth, narrowing its eyes as he calculates how to attack. “You’ve done well. These things are a son of a bitch to kill.” 

“Thanks Noct,” you say, a little breathless. “Feeling good?” 

“I’m good,” he says, swallowing hard. “Just ready to kill this last one...” 

It all happens in a matter of seconds—the last elder coeurl jumps forward so fast that all of you barely have time to react to the cloud of black smoke that suddenly emits from it. Everyone shouts at once, but before the attack can reach Noctis, you push _hard_ with all of your weight and knock the prince to the side, absorbing the elder coeurl’s _instant death_. You choke as you breathe in the fog, sinking to your knees in the dirt. You hear the angry cries of the guys and the clang of swords, the firing of Prompto’s guns, the piercing cries of the huge daemon-- 

“_________!” Noctis screams. 

You feel yourself being scooped up in strong arms, pressed against a slender, black-clad body. You want to sleep so badly, but something in the back of your brain tells you that it’s a bad idea. You force your eyes open—Noctis is leaned over you, face contorted in horror, tears falling from his face and splashing your cheeks. 

“Why did you _do_ that?!” He screams. He looks back-- “ _Iggy!_ Phoenix Down, _now_!” 

You feel yourself slipping back into sleep—desperately, you reach up to cup Noct’s face, satisfied that you’d defended your prince to the death. 

A kiss on your wrist and Noct’s pleas of your name are the last things you feel and hear before you fall unconscious. 

_____ 

When you wake up, you feel starved for oxygen—you gasp as you jolt out of bed, holding your head with the sudden onslaught of blood pounding between your ears. You look around in the dimly-lit hotel room—you all are back in the Leville, in Lestallum. Ignis must’ve driven here while you were out cold. You hold your head and groan—and that’s when you register the rustling of a body next to you. 

“Holy shit, you’re alive.” Noctis blinks up at you with tired eyes as he moves to sit. He reaches out for your round face and cups it in his gloved hand. “Please don’t ever fucking do that again.” 

You swallow, throat dry and hoarse, and shake your head. “S’my duty,” you whisper quietly, leaning into Noct’s hand. 

“Don’t” says Noctis, voice shaky. “Don’t say it like that, I can’t--” He chokes. “I can’t lose you.” 

“I swore an oath, Noct,” you mutter back. His leather glove is so soft—your eyes flutter closed, and you allow yourself to just breathe. 

“If Ignis hadn’t hit you with the Phoenix Down when he did, you would have _died_.” 

“Better me than you,” you say, flicking your eyes back up to Noct, frowning. “I couldn’t--I couldn’t let it get you.” 

“I could’ve handled it.” 

“No!” You draw back and bat the prince’s hand away. “You don’t get to decide those kinds of things, Noct. It was aiming for _you_. It recognized you as our leader. And it’s my job to make sure shit like that doesn’t happen. It’s my job to help you stay _alive_.” 

“And what, I’m just supposed to let you jump in front of me like that?” 

“Yes! Gods, you’re such a dumbass sometimes. I’m your Crownsguard, Noct. This is my _job_.” 

Noctis bites his lip and looks away, dropping his hand. He clenches his fist and spits, “I never asked you to do this job. I didn’t want you to.” 

“You don’t want me to... _fine_. If that’s how you feel, I’ll just pack my shit and join the hunters. Or maybe Cor can find me useful.” 

You know you don’t really mean that, and maybe Noctis doesn’t mean what he’s saying either, but it’s hard to keep your anger under wraps when the person you’ve sworn to protect is fighting with you over duty. You throw back the covers and move to stand—and suddenly, Noctis tackles you and presses his face into your neck, sobbing hard. 

“Don’t leave,” he gasps, crushing your thick body into his. “Please, don’t--” 

You sigh and hug him back. Words are hard, sometimes, and there’s been a lot of tension lately. All you can do is crumble into Noct’s embrace and thank the gods that the both of you are alive. 

You hear the door open and close, and then the soft gasps and hushed whispers of the other guys. 

“Dude!” cries Prompto, clutching his heart and sniffing _hard_. “You’re okay! Holy shit, I... _fuck.._.” He presses his palms into his eyes and chokes. 

Ignis and Gladio hastily retreat into the adjoining room where the kitchenette and living room are located to put down their armfuls of groceries and supplies, and then Ignis crawls onto the bed, peeling Noctis away so that he can assess you. 

“You gave us quite a fright,” says Ignis tightly. He doesn’t sound angry, just tired—but he’s not overly happy, either. 

You shrug, reiterating your only defense. “I protected Noctis. That’s all that matters.” 

Ignis clicks his tongue and stays silent as he cards his fingers through your hair. “You’re so brave,” he says finally, green eyes watery behind his glasses. “I suppose we feel this way because--” 

“--because I’m a woman?” You raise an eyebrow. You figured this argument was coming. “I can hold my own just as well as any of you. I’m not some delicate damsel in distress.” You’re not a natural fighter like Gladio, and you’re definitely the slowest-moving—but you’ve developed your own style over the past several weeks, and you know you’ve gotten stronger and better with your magic. Your weight gives you a natural strength and hardiness, and it’s something that you’ve used to your advantage. 

Ignis sighs. “I apologize. I do not mean to make you feel less.” 

“It’s just a natural instinct to want to protect you, sweetheart,” says Gladio, coming up to the side of the bed and threading his long, beefy arm across your shoulders and squeezing you tight. “You’re a badass, though. I feel great knowing you have our backs, Noct’s back. But try not to scare us like that, alright?” 

You look up into Gladio’s soft amber eyes and smile. A fighting compliment from Gladio is one of the highest compliments you can receive. “I’ll try to be more careful next time. I promise.” 

“It would be appreciated,” says Ignis, taking your hand in his, squeezing it tight. “We’re not a team without you.” 


	8. Three

**3**

“It’s _so_ hot,” Prompto groans. He's in his boxers, forgoing his usual act of being scandalized in front of you. He’s facedown on the bed, limbs spread like a starfish. 

Noctis isn’t any more dressed than he is, napping the afternoon away, curled up like a cat around one of the big fluffy pillows. Ignis is out doing more shopping in the markets that he wasn’t able to hit yesterday. 

Gladio is sitting on the floor, between your chubby legs, head leaned forward. He’s absorbed in his latest dime store paperback, and you’re practicing a braid you’d seen on the cover of a gas station magazine earlier in the week. 

It’s been a quiet past twenty-four hours after you’d recovered from the near-death experience of the elder coeurl. The guys have been...even more attentive to you than usual. Not that you mind the extra attention, but you desperately wish things would go back to normal; because the soft glances, gentle touches, kind words are breaking your heart more and more every hour, reminding you of things you’re not supposed to be feeling. 

You’re dressed in some short pajama shorts, a wireless sports bra, and a thin tank top—you have half a mind to just forgo the shirt altogether. It’s always hot as balls in Lestallum because of the power plant, but today just seems like the worst day yet out of all the times you’ve visited here. 

Gladio’s similarly dressed, sitting shamelessly in the tiniest gym shorts you’ve ever seen. Your calves burn where they’re delicately touching his arms—and if you keep accidentally brushing the back of his thick neck while you’re braiding his hair, well... 

The hotel room door clicks open and Ignis appears with one of his cloth totes. How he’s wearing even dark jeans and his gray short-sleeved shirt is beyond you. His hair is down from its usual bird-crest style, and you grin—he must’ve remembered that night in the tent so many days ago, when you told him he looked nice with his hair down. 

His emerald eyes shine with affection behind his silver-rimmed glasses as he surveys the state of the room. “Gentlemen, ladies,” he says, dropping the tote with a _thud_ on the TV dresser. “I think we’re all overdue for some haircuts, wouldn’t you say?” 

Prompto rolls over and sits up _immediately_ , cocking his head. “Haircuts are pretty expensive, Iggy,” he says, waving his hand. “I’m good, though! Thanks. I usually trim it myself anyway—well, the parts I can reach, at least.” 

Ignis smiles and reaches into his tote, pulling out a pair of hair-cutting scissors, a straight razor, and an electric hair trimmer. “Fortunately for you, darling, this haircut is free. I was able to trade some of our excess supplies in exchange for some equipment.” 

Gladio looks up at Ignis. “But who’s gonna do you, Iggy?” 

You have to bite your tongue to keep from screaming _Me!_

“I trust you would have the steadiest hand of all of us, Gladio,” says Ignis. “I’m sure you could manage.” 

Gladio nods and snaps his book shut. “If I can’t, I’m sure Prom could advise.” 

“I’m not half bad,” the blond laughs, getting up from the bed. 

You keep your gaze laser-focused on your fingers intertwined in Gladio’s hair. “Damn, I was almost done, too.” 

“Aw, I’m sorry sweetheart,” says Gladio, putting his big hand around one of your ankles and rubbing. “You can do it again after I’m trimmed up.” 

You nod and dig your fingers into Gladio’s thick black hair, undoing the intricate work you’ve been attempting for the past forty-five minutes. 

“I’ll wake Noct last,” says Ignis, casting a side glance at the sleeping royal on the bed opposite yours. “Who’s in the barber’s chair first?” 

“Me!” sings Prompto, crossing over to Iggy and looking at the tools in his gloved hands. 

You notice his freckled cheeks warm up in a faint pink blush, violet-blue eyes dilated just slightly as he gazes at the straight razor in Ignis’ hands. 

What a mood. Ignis with sharp objects is enough to get anyone with eyes hot and bothered. And of course Ignis would know how to trim hair, of not cut it completely, as well as any paid stylist. Is there anything he can’t do? 

“It’s quite warm,” says Ignis, leading Prompto to the bathroom. “Surely you won’t mind if I remove my shirt?” 

Prompto chokes, coughing as he waves his hand. “Sorry—swallowed wrong! Of course not, Iggy,” he smiles gently. “I mean, I’m walking around here in my shorts. It’s stupid hot, I don’t even know how you’re wearing pants right now.” 

“Sadly, public appearances do call for a certain sense of propriety,” Ignis laughs as they head into the bathroom. 

You focus on continuing to undo Gladio’s braid, Prompto and Ignis’ conversation in the bathroom falling to the back of your mind, mindless chatter filling the otherwise quiet hotel suite. Noct’s occasional half-snores ring out from the other bed, but otherwise, it’s quiet. 

_Too quiet_. Again, you’re feeling some sort of weird tension between you and the guys, and you can’t figure out why. They’ve all reassured you that they’re not mad at you for jumping in front of Noctis on the battlefield, but... 

“Hey Gladio,” you murmur softly, finally wiggling your fingers out through his soft, wavy hair, freeing the last of the braid. 

“Huh?” He leans his head back between your thighs, amber eyes shining up at you in confusion. 

You sigh, shoulders heaving. “You guys _sure_ you’re not mad at me? I feel like...I dunno. Like you guys are starting to treat me different. Or something.” 

Gladio raises a thick eyebrow. “Told ya, we’re not mad. ‘Least I ain’t—you were there for Noct when I couldn’t get to him fast enough. I couldn’t be more relived to have you with us.” 

“Okay. I mean sometimes I just feel like—I mean yeah I’m a woman, but like...I like being with you guys. We’re all friends, right? I mean that hasn’t changed, has it? It’s not too weird, having me around?” 

Gladio laughs, shaking his head. “I’m not sure _weird_ is the word I would use...” 

Before he can finish, Prompto bounces out of the bathroom, hair looking like it did the first day of your journey. 

“Who’s next?” he sings, flopping on the bed beside you. 

You quickly avert your eyes, trying not to stare. “I’ll go!” You swing your leg over Gladio’s head and stand, pulling down your shorts around your thighs. 

You _almost_ have a heart attack when you walk into the bathroom. Ignis has traded his t-shirt and jeans for a white sleeveless undershirt and boxers—even his socks are gone. He’s washing off the razor and scissors when you walk through the open door. 

“Ah, _________,” Ignis says, smiling, tapping the tools on the sink and drying them with one of the Leville’s embroidered fluffy white washrags. “Please, have a seat on the toilet, if you’d be so kind.” 

“Facing you, Iggy, or...” 

“Facing me is fine, love,” he purrs, moving to shake out the towel of Prompto’s chopped hair, putting it around your shoulders. 

You can’t stop staring at his collar bones and his little skull necklace that hangs so low between them. His muscles are bathed in a faint sheen of sweat, porcelain skin glowing under the yellow lights of the bathroom. 

“How would like me to cut it?” asks Ignis as he squats in front of you, parting your shoulder-length hair with his bare hands. 

It makes you involuntarily shiver, and you close your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. “Well, uh...whatever you think is best. I’m not picky. I had been thinking, before the trip, maybe I’d like to go a little shorter, maybe some layers...” 

“Mmmm, yes,” says Ignis, measuring your hair with his fingers, pulling it long around the front of your face. “Maybe tapered towards your chin, shorter in the back?” 

“Yeah, that sounds good...” You open your eyes—Ignis is practically nose to nose with you, hands still gripping the edges of your hair. He looks _so_ kissable right now—it would barely take any movement at all to lean forward and brush your lips against his. 

But you don’t, of course. That would be silly. Ignis definitely doesn’t want to kiss _you_. 

Ignis swallows and nods. “I believe I can do that.” 

After an undetermined amount of time on the toilet—including several position changes—Ignis sets the straight razor and scissors down on the counter and washes his hands. 

“Am I through?” you ask quietly. 

“I apologize for taking so much creative license,” Ignis says, “but yes. Do open your eyes and tell me what you think.” 

You open your eyes and carefully peel off the towel, handing it to Ignis so he can shake it off over the trash can. You blink in the mirror, almost not recognizing your own reflection— 

Your hair is now in a chin-length choppy bob, with short layers along the sides and the front. It’s angled towards your round face, and running your hands along the back of your neck, you can tell that he chopped most of it with the razor. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you start to tear up. You can’t lie to yourself—you actually look kinda...good? 

“What do you think?” asks Ignis, coming up behind you. He settles his hands gently on your bare shoulders and runs his fingers through your hair. “It’s rather good, if I do say so myself.” 

“Oh, Iggy—I _love_ it,” you say, blinking up at him through hazy eyes. “You can do anything.” 

Ignis smiles and adjusts his glasses. “Surely not _anything_ ,” he says, humming. “I’m so happy that you’re pleased. If you’ll call Gladio for me, darling.” 

You poke your head around the door jamb, a little nervous as to how everyone else will react. “Gladio, uh. Your turn!” 

You hear the rustling of his nylon shorts and suddenly the big, beefy shield is in front of you, staring down at you with wide eyes, full lips parted in awe. 

“Holy shit, baby,” he says, reaching out to finger your new ‘do. “That’s fuckin’ _cute_.” 

You can’t help the blush that rises to your cheeks. You jerk your head back at Ignis. “I had a good barber,” you respond, laughing off his comment. He’s just being nice, right? Yeah. Just nice. A nice compliment. That’s all. You duck under his arm, out to the bedroom. 

Prompto is cross-legged on bed, going through his pictures—he looks up when he sees you approach, and you swear that he flushes red from his bellybutton to the tips of his ears. “Oh,” he says. “Uh...shit. Wow.” 

“Is it...okay? Does it suit me? I’ve never had it this short before...” 

Prompto gulps hard. 

Why are the guys being so weird? 

“It looks super good,” he says, voice tight. “Like...Gladio said...it’s a...cute haircut. Uh.” His eyes dart back down to his camera and he exhales loudly. 

You shake your head, confused at everyone’s reactions. Noctis hasn’t moved on the other bed, so you flop down next to him and fall asleep to the sounds of his deep breathing. 


	9. Two

2

As soon as Noctis crooks his finger and beckons you over to spread out your sleeping bag and padding next to his, you feel an oversized hand on the back of your shirt, yanking. Stumbling backwards from where you’re kneeling, you crane your head up to see Gladio hovering over you—but he’s shooting a death glare at the prince. 

“Not tonight, princess. Quit hoggin’ ___________.” 

You swallow hard. What in the hell is going on? There’s always been sort of friendly  rivalry between Gladio and Noct, but...over you? And where you sleep? “Hey man, I’ll sleep anywhere, I’m not picky,” you chuckle nervously, trying to diffuse the situation. 

Noctis pouts. “That’s not fair! She’s my friend too.”

“Yeah, and she’s over there every night! What if I want to snuggle?”

Your blood goes from normal to boiling in about three seconds. Snuggle? With Gladio? 

Either he’s really touch-starved, or...no, it couldn’t be. You shake your head at the silly thought. Gladio’s not into fat girls, not after the quips he’s made about Cindy and the mercenary from Niflheim you’d had a run-in a few weeks back...Highwind? Something like that. Anyway. He just wants to hug. While sleeping. Yep! Totally doable. No sweat. 

Noctis bites his tongue and spits. “Tch, fine.”

You pout in mock annoyance. “Oh, I see how it is. Gonna give me up so easily, huh  Noct? I’m hurt.”

Either it’s a trick of the lantern night, or Noctis is blushing, which does a number on on your already pounding heart. 

The prince cocks his head at Prompto. “Cuddle me.”

Now it’s Prompto’s turn to blush, which is just too cute for words. 

“Sure buddy! You cold?”

“Yeah.”

“Bet.” Prompto settles down into his sleeping bag and draws Noctis to him. They’re just so cute together, it hurts your heart, and you almost forget to be jealous. 

“C’mere,” says Gladio, drawing you into his chest. You instinctively nuzzle between his soft pecs and inhale his scent—-and then you feel Ignis close begins you, long fingers brushing across your arms. 

It’s going to be a long night. 

——————

Noctis sits on yet another pier, fishing. 

You’re sitting beside him, wrapped in a camping blanket, drinking a can of Ebony. 

“D’you remember, when we were kids,” you start, looking into the tiny hole of the aluminum can. 

Something is coming, but you’re not sure what. 

The boa constrictor around your heart has almost squeezed its last. You can’t stop yourself. 

“When we were kids,” you repeat. “You, uh. Wanna know something funny?”

Noct just hums, cocking his head at you. 

He really is too pretty. And he smiles at you, all teeth and dimples, waiting. 

You inhale. “When kids would go steady, y’know. Wear like, matching bracelets or whatever. Sit together at lunch. Hold hands.”

Silence. You can’t even hear Noctis breathing. 

“Before, I...well, I almost asked you. To, y’know. With me.” You laugh bitterly. “Dumb kid stuff, huh?” You shake your head. Princes don’t date fat girls—not at ten, and not at twenty. 

The bobber plunks beneath the surface of the lake and Noctis jumps up with a loud “Shit!” 

His reply is lost on the black bass that’s pulling on the other end of the line.

——————

“My hands really hurt for some reason.” 

They do. They’re red and swollen—inflammation from something, who knows? You’ve been free from status ailments, so it’s not a quick potion fix, unfortunately. You rub them, cursing under your breath. 

“Here, I gotcha,” says Prompto.

He’s cleaning his guns, and his hands are covered in dirt and gunpowder, grease and oil. 

It shouldn’t be such a turn-on, but literally anything Prompto does is hot—and he’s at his most competent and confident when he’s handling his guns. It’s easy to forget that he’s a trained firearms specialist, and even though he’s had the shortest amount of training of all of you, your frequent battles have given everyone the best kind of real-life tactical training. 

“You sure?” You look across the campfire at his guns all laid out on the dirty canvas blanket in front of him, in various states of disassembly, sleek and shiny with the oil. “Don’t wanna interrupt you, Prom.”

“Nah.” Prompto scoots to the side, patting the rocky haven floor. “Gonna let ‘em breathe for a second.”

You swallow hard and nod, rising from your camping chair, moving across the campfire to sit at his side. 

You both turn face each other, and Prompto takes your bare hands in his own, and begins to massage them. 

After just a few seconds of Prompto working his warm, slick hands over yours, you start to break out in a sweat that’s completely unrelated to the roaring campfire just a few feet away. You let your eyelids flutter close, jaw going slack at the relief in your hands. Soft moans escape your lips, parted in pleasure at Prompto’s strong grip working over your palms...fingers...the meaty joint of your thumb, your wrists...

You lose yourself in his touch, selfishly fantasizing about Prompto’s strong, slender hands roaming over your whole body instead of just your hands—how would it feel if his soft touch was lingering on your neck; if he were squeezing your breasts; he were sliding two—three—fingers deep inside...

“___________?”

Prompto’s quiet voice cuts through your thoughts. 

Your eyes open to see his violet-blue eyes blown wide, freckled cheeks flushed red. The firelight casts the most beautiful glow over his angular features—his pink lips are right there, it would be so easy to...

You look down at your hands lying face up in Prompto’s dirty palms and get lost in thoughts of holding his hand always.

“Thanks Prom,” you say softly, withdrawing your hands, rubbing over them. They’re all slick with his gun oil and smudges of black. 

He inhales sharply, eyes flicking to the side, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, no problem. Feel better?”

“Yeah.” Your gaze settles back down at your hands, and then, at Prompto’s lap—

He’s hard, and still avoiding your gaze. 

You groan softly as you get to your feet and shuffle into the tent, sighing to yourself. 


	10. One

1

Two nights later, you all are still at the haven. Things seem to have settled down to a relatively normal routine again—Gladio still ruffles your hair after battles, Noctis still slugs you on the shoulder and bets you that you can’t cast a more powerful ice spell than he can, and Ignis still lets you help him cook and shop for groceries and supplies. Prompto is still being a little more timid around you since he rubbed your hands, and you’ve gone out of your way to try to spend more time with him, helping him with photography and going on jogs with him for extra endurance training. 

But the boa constrictor is still squeezing too tight around your heart. 

You’re feeling particularly aroused tonight, desperate for release. It’s after dinner, and the sun is still in the process of setting. Ignis and Gladio are picking up the table and the cookware, Noctis is half-asleep in his camping chair, and Prompto is reviewing the day’s photos, cleaning out blurry shots and switching out SD cards. 

You’ve been trying to get more confident in asking for what you need. After all, you’re human, aren’t you? This is a totally normal function. And the five of you are constantly around each other—privacy is rare. Everyone seems occupied, so surely they won’t mind if you request some alone time...right? You clear your throat—suddenly, all eyes are on you. 

You swallow hard. “Okay, this is awkward, but there’s no other way to ask, I guess. Um. Would you guys mind if I had some time to myself in the tent? For like...maybe an hour? I’ll come let you know when I’m...through.” You can’t help but blush, knowing that you’re going to be fingering yourself to the thoughts of the men in front of you, but maybe they’ll just take it as the heat from the warm summer night, and the campfire. 

Ignis is the first to shoot you a small smirk, along with a polite nod. “Of course, dear. Take all the time you require.” 

The others shrug and nod, not thinking anything of it. Phew, what a relief. Gladio _looks_ like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t--a good thing, since he has a way of drawing out secret information, and you know you wouldn’t be able to lie to him if he asked a bunch of personal questions. 

“Cool, thanks,” you say too quickly, rising from your camping chair and pocketing your phone, ducking into the tent and zipping the flap. 

You exhale slowly, heart pounding as you rub your thighs together. You’re so wet already, you probably need to change underwear. You leave the lamp off in the tent, not wanting your silhouette to be illuminated, and shuffle out of your clothes, sighing in relief as your body is exposed to the air. You shiver as your sweat begins to dry, but you lie down on your sleeping bag—which is back between Noctis’ and Prompto’s bed spaces—and spend some time warming yourself up by squeezing your breasts and pinching your nipples, imagining that it’s Gladio’s calloused fingers instead of your own. 

It doesn’t take much to bring you to the brink of orgasm—just thinking of all the things you’d want to do with the guys is enough fuel for your vivid imagination. You try not to rustle the sleeping bag too much, or make a lot of noise—you're biting your lip almost hard enough to bleed. 

What would Ignis be like in bed? Would he be gentle and soft, a generous lover, with quiet praise dripping from his full lips? Would he fuck you slowly, with long, languid strokes, taking his time with you, not content until he’d filled your thoughts with only his name? 

Would Gladio be the beast you imagine him to be, rough, taking and taking, using your body to his heart’s content, covering you in bites and bruises as he impales you on his hard, thick cock? Calling you a _good girl,_ praising you because _you take daddy’s cock so well_ , large hands on the back of your neck as he ruts into you, face down and ass up on the sleeping bag? 

You bite back another groan as you finger yourself to the edge, imagining all the ways you could blow Prompto’s mind—he'd be so vocal and so _eager_ , so _so_ ready to give and receive pleasure. How would his face twist into ecstasy if you gave him a sloppy, messy blowjob? He’d probably come so quick from the overwhelming sensations, but his refractory time is probably short—you could teach him to eat your pussy like a champ until he’d be ready to go again, and then he could fuck you for the first time, kissing you as he loses his virginity inside of your warm, thick body, crying out how much he loves you as he comes. 

And Noctis—you would be so reverent in worshipping your prince—your _king_. You could sit on his lap and ride him slowly, burying your hands in his thick silky black hair as you whisper to him how long you’ve loved him. You’d prove your devotion to him in the most intimate of ways—maybe he would wrap his arms around you, squishing your jiggly body to his lean, strong chest as he buries his head in your neck, giving you a mark that would last for a week. You’d never cover it up—you'd wear it with pride so that all of Lucis could see who you belong to. 

You bring yourself to the edge over and over again, not wanting to come _just yet_ —you look at the timer on your phone—you still have twenty minutes left in the hour you’d asked for. You put the cell phone to sleep and lie back again, focusing on one of your many fantasies about you and all of the guys together, taking turns sharing in each other’s pleasure—you're ready to come now, you feel the wave building up again, cresting higher and higher, and-- 

“Shit!” 

Your eyes fly open in horror and you scramble to pull your blanket over your naked body, screaming in surprise. 

Prompto is crouched in the doorway of the tent, frozen in reaching for his duffel bag, eyes wide in shock and face tomato-red. 

Your embarrassent fades to annoyance as you frown at him. “Prom! I said an _hour_ alone!” 

He looks to the side, gulping, waving his hands in defense. “Sorry, I’m so sorry! I needed my portable phone charger ‘cause Noct wanted to play King’s Knight and I wasn’t thinking, and I...well how was I supposed to know what you were doing?” 

Noct’s voice rings in the background, grumpy. “Don’t blame it on me!” 

Silence, then Gladio; “Wait, what’s going on?” 

You groan and flop back down, making sure your torso is covered by the blanket. Your core is absolutely pulsing with want, having been so close to the edge for so long. “Nothing!” you holler in response. “Just get your charger and let me finish, Prompto,” you sigh. The cat’s out of the bag now—no use in trying to deny anything. You just want to come and then go to sleep. 

Prompto nods quickly. “Uh, right.” he crouches over his bag and begins to dig. 

But of course Gladio squats at the half-open tent flap seconds later, peering inside, looking from you, back to Prompto, eyes growing wide in realization. 

He laughs. “Blondie walked in on you, huh?” He thumps Prompto on the back. “Nice job, kid.” 

“Shuddup!” Prompto whines, bringing out the power brick and black charging cable. “I already said I was sorry!” 

Gladio grins wide and looks back to you. “You coulda told us what was going on, y’know.” 

“What...? No, I couldn’t. I said I needed alone time, that should’ve been enough. Besides, I don’t walk in on you guys when _you’re_ jerking it in the bathroom or whatever!” 

Prompto sheepishly rubs the back of his neck and swallows. “Uh,” he starts. “You coulda...asked one of us for help.” 

Record scratch, freeze frame—excuse me, _what_? 

“Huh?” You sit up, being careful to keep your blanket covering your breasts and the tops of your thighs, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Yeah,” echoes Gladio. “If you’re feeling pent up, sweetheart, one of us could’ve helped you get off.” 

There’s no hint of teasing in his voice, or Prompto’s-- “Wait, are you...you guys are serious?” 

Prompto finally makes eye contact with you and bites his bottom lip. “Uh...yeah. Yes. Definitely yes.” 

Your jaw drops—and then Ignis and Noctis are peeking in the tent. 

“What’s all the commotion?” Ignis asks. His pretty emerald eyes grow wide at the sight of your bare shoulders and arms, slowly lingering as he drags his gaze up and down the length of your body. “Oh,” he says quietly. “I see.” 

“Please spare me,” you whisper as you close your eyes. “Look, I’m sorry for making this weird, I just wanted...” 

“Why didn’t you say something?” 

Your eyes fly open and look at Noctis. 

His stormy blue eyes are like saucers, and you can’t help but shiver under his intense stare. “Well, I...” You can feel yourself tearing up. “What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, let’s be friends with benefits’? Or was I supposed to confess that I’ve been in love with all four of you since I was sixteen and suffer rejection not once but _four_ times, be part of the Crownsguard with you all, knowing that you could never love me back? What was I supposed to do? _Of course_ I could never tell you! But now I have, I guess—so can you all just leave me to finish getting myself off to fantasies that will never happen, and then you can let me sleep, and then if you want to kick me out of the party in the morning, I totally get it. No one wants an ugly fat girl pining after them like a lovesick puppy.” 

You put your head in your hands and sniff hard, willing the tears to stop, but they won’t. You vaguely register movement—shuffling of sleeping bags, quiet whispers. There’s a gloved hand on your bare shoulder—Noctis. You don’t even have the strength to pull away as you push hard on your watery eyes. 

“The other day,” says Noctis quietly, “when I was fishing, you talked about school, about when we were kids.” He pauses. “Um, you said you almost asked me to go steady with you.” 

You nod. “Dumb, like I said, right?” 

“Please look at me.” 

You sigh and drop your hand, blinking up at Noctis through blurry vision. He reaches out and thumbs away your tears, wiping your eyes until you can see clearly again. 

“It’s not dumb,” he says, shaking his head. “Do you know how many times I thought about asking you the same thing?” 

“He’d ask me for advice at least once a month for years,” Ignis chimes in. 

“I’d always chicken out. You were always so cute, so unapologetically yourself—and you never treated me any differently. I could tell you didn’t want to be friends with me just because I was a prince. If I hadn’t had you when I was a kid, I don’t know what I would’ve done.” He grits his teeth. “And then when you—when we fought the coeurls and you...I meant it when I said I couldn’t lose you.” 

You just stare at him, dumbfounded. “What are you saying?” 

“I liked you at ten,” Noctis says, smiling. “I think I love you, now.” 

You gasp as though you’ve been punched in the gut. “I...what?” 

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s not true. You said we couldn’t love you back. Well, I don’t know about anyone else, but you were wrong about me.” 

“Okay--hold on a second.” Your mind is reeling with the prince’s confession. _Noctis likes me_. _Noctis_ loves _me._

The boa constrictor around your heart finally slithers away, and the sudden rush of feeling threatens to make you dizzy. 

“Can I jump into this?” asks Gladio, moving to sit cross-legged in front of you. “Baby girl,” he says, cupping your chubby face in one hand turning your head to face him. “Do you not realize that I almost kissed you in that damn laundromat?” 

You tilt your head to the side like a confused dog. “I...what?” 

“You’re like the dumbest smart girl I’ve ever met,” says Prompto, shrugging his shoulders. “Dude. I got hard while rubbing your _hands_. Don’t pretend like you didn’t see that.” 

Ignis hums as he settles on your other side, across from Noctis. “Darling,” he says, dragging his gloved hands—which _really_ isn’t fair—over your bare shoulders, your collar bone, the swell of your breast beneath the blanket. “Did you really not consider the implications of traveling with us? Four men, and one woman? Surely you can’t think it’s been easy on us.” 

“I...” You’re truly at a loss for words. “I guess I...no, I didn’t think,” you confess, shaking your head. “I didn’t think _any_ of you liked me like that.” 

“Oh, so cuddling, and bathing in the same hot spring, and seeing you in your tiny pajama shorts was all supposed to be meaningless?” Ignis cocks an eyebrow. “We are human, after all. A normal man with attraction to women would have to be completely mental not to think you attractive.” 

“Uh,” you say, shivering under Ignis’ feather-light touch on your shoulder. “No, I...but I’m not even that pretty?” 

“Oh please!” Noctis laughs, a little bitterly. “I’ve been having wet dreams about you for years.” 

“You’re joking.” 

“Same, buddy,” laughs Prompto. “__________, you’re like...hot, okay? I can’t believe you don’t think so.” 

“Oh yeah? Is that why I have to hear about Cindy every waking hour?” 

Prompto clicks his tongue. “I can think two people are hot at the same time, y’know. Besides, I mean, she’s pretty—but you’re _you_ , and I know you, and your personality is part of what makes you hot.” 

You shake your head in disbelief. 

Gladio pulls a condom from his pocket. “Do you know how long I’ve been carrying this around, hoping you’d wanna be with me?” 

“We never said anything because you acted like you weren’t interested,” quips Noctis. 

“I just...guys like you don’t normally like—or date—fat girls. Much less fall in love with them, or fuck them.” 

“Oh sweetheart,” says Gladio, grinning wolfishly. “We _love_ your curves, _trust_ me.” 

You look at him, and then around to the other three—they're all nodding in agreement. 

“It’s not a turn off?” 

“Bro,” says Prompto. “You think I don’t know what a fat person looks like naked? Do you know how much porn I’ve watched? Trust me—if I wasn’t attracted to basically every body type, I’d know by now.” 

“Um,” you say, shuffling uncomfortably. The heat between your legs definitely hasn’t gone away—if anything, the realization that your feelings are reciprocated only fuels the fire. “So...I’m in love with you. All of you. And you’re all...you love me back?” 

“That’s the long and short of it, yes,” says Ignis, smiling. 

“But it’s, like—it's not gonna get weird? Sharing?” 

“Who says we’re sharing?” says Gladio. “We’ve all talked this over, and uh...we all sort of like each other, too.” 

“Oh.” You feel your face flush red. “That’s hot.” 

Noctis grins at the guys, and then at you-- “So, what do you say we help you finish what you started?” 

You nod weakly, still feeling very surreal in light of everything that’s been said this evening. “Uh, yeah...yes. I want that. You. All of you. Um.” You look to Noctis. “You first?” 

“Dammit,” says Gladio, pocketing the condom again. 

“Perks of being royalty,” Noct says, sticking out his tongue. “You guys wait outside—I'll tell you when it’s someone else’s turn.” 

“You sure you don’t need a demonstration first, Princess?” Gladio teases. 

“Spare him, Gladio,” says Ignis, helping Prompto to his knees. “I’m sure __________ can instruct him just fine.” 

The other three guys leave the tent and zip the flap up almost all of the way, moving back out to the campsite to wait. 

You and Noctis stare at each other for several long seconds before you tentatively lean forward and press your lips to his. 


	11. Zero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the short absence, y'all. There's a lot of personal shit going on in my life right now and I am just all over the place, mentally and physically. Thank you for your patience with me. Love you guys. Enjoy!

0: Noctis 

Noct exhales beautifully as you gently kiss him, letting him get a feel for the movements of your lips. He pulls back after only a minute, full lips parted, face flushed, eyes wide. 

You think that he’s never looked so wonderful. You can hardly believe that this is even happening. “Was that...okay?” 

Noctis grins. “Dunno, you’re my first kiss.” 

The confession does something wonderful to your insides. “Oh, Noct,” you breathe, barely holding back tears. “I...gods, I’m so in love with you. It’s pretty ridiculous.” You huff out a laugh, wiping your eyes. 

“Tell me about it,” laughs Noctis. He pauses for a second, then reaches out his bare hand to stroke down your neck and along your shoulder, give you goosebumps. “So, um...” 

You gulp, nodding. “I mean...I’m ready for you, Noct. But you should probably take off your clothes first.” 

“Oh, uh. Right, yeah. Naked. Got it.” 

As Noctis moves over to his sleeping bag to tear out of his clothes as fast as he can manage, it’s then that your trash brain remembers that the prince is technically engaged. Panic sets in immediately, threatening to kill the mood altogether. 

“What about...what about Lunafreya?” 

Noctis looks back at you from over his shoulder as he slips off his shirt. “Oh, don’t worry. She knows how much I like you. How much I like everyone.” 

“She...she won’t be mad?” 

Noct smiles. “Nah. She tried to get me to confess to you for years. I can’t wait to tell her that it finally happened.” 

You attempt to calm down. “Okay, I was just about to panic, because, I mean, she’s so pretty, and she’s the Oracle, and...” The rest of your worry dies on your tongue when Noctis finally rids himself of his boxer-briefs and turns to you on bent knees, naked in all of his glory. 

“Hey,” says Noct. “I want to do this. My marriage to her doesn’t change anything about how I feel—have always felt—about you. At this point who knows if the wedding will even happen?” He shrugs. “A squad of MTs could take us out tomorrow...I don’t have any more time to wait.” 

Noctis is right of course—he always is about heavy shit, and even though he’s not always the most vocal with emotions, he’s smart and insightful. You’d watched him grow up to be the prince you always knew he could be, and you couldn’t be any more proud than you are right now. 

You nod. “You’re--you’re right.” 

“Damn right I am,” Noct replies, grinning. “Now, uh. Lose the blanket.” 

You swallow hard, still so insecure about your body. You gingerly peel away the blanket, finally staring face to face with Noctis in the nude. 

“Well,” you say quietly. “Um. Here’s me.” 

“Holy shit,” Noctis breathes. “You...you’re beautiful. Fuck.” 

You blush and look away, shaking your head. “I’m not really, I...” 

Before you know what’s happening, Noctis has moved on top of you, pinning you on your back as you squeal in surprise. You can feel his thick cock against your thigh as he straddles and grinds against you, holding tightly to your wrists as he kisses you again, with much more urgency. 

What Noct lacks in experience he makes up for in enthusiasm, and he’s a quick learner—soon you’re both kissing each other breathless, passionate and sloppy, teeth clacking and tongues exploring every inch of each other’s mouths. He hasn’t even moved to get inside of you; he seems content just to feel you writhe in ecstasy underneath him. But before long, his slender hips are snapping forward at a furious pace, and then he’s quivering, his release spilling out on your fat thigh. Noctis comes for what feels like forever, and as he pants into your open mouth, whining as he drags his throbbing cock along your body, you realize that he’s still hard. 

“Fuck,” he says, pulling away and holding his arms up straight so he can look down at you. “That was...you’re so _soft._ ” 

You bite your lip and nod. At this point, your pussy is absolutely leaking with desire. “Are you...you’re still hard?” 

Noctis nods. “Uh, yeah...I think it has to do with being royalty. I usually come like three or four times before I’m done.” 

“Oh shit,” you say. You are _more_ than ready to go several rounds with your prince. But before you can beg Noct to fuck you into oblivion, he cracks his knuckles and flexes his fingers, and looks at you like you’re a goddess. 

“I’ve only ever watched it being done on like, videos and stuff,” he says. “So you’ll have to teach me how.” 

You lick your lips. “Teach you how to what?” 

“How to finger you until the only thing you can remember is that you’re royal property.” 

The moan that escapes your throat is wanton and needy, and Noctis bends down to kiss you again. 

“Right there, _oh,_ _Noct_...” You grip your sleeping bag hard, rolling your hips up into Noct’s rough, sword-calloused fingers. He’s been fingering you for an indeterminable amount of time. Just as with kissing, he’s a fast learner when you’d taken his hand in yours and instructed you on all the right ways to get you off. His teeth are latched around one pert nipple, and the hand that’s not between your legs is gripping hard on your other breast. You’re overwhelmed with the sensation of his hands, his teeth, the way he’s groaning into your skin, whispering soft praises. 

It’s all over too quickly before can you even think about it, orgasm crashing into you and leaving you breathless. As you begin to shake in ecstasy, you manage to cry out for Noct’s fingers—he inserts two of them into you with zero hesitation, pumping them hard into your pussy, giving you something to buck against. 

“Wow,” he says, pulling his fingers from your dripping core, licking them clean. “You’re amazing.” 

All you can do is whine as you come down from the high, legs still shaking in the after-effects. You gaze up at Noctis through half-lidded eyes as he grabs your ankles and moves you how he desires, gripping the base of his hard cock and teasing your entrance. 

“Are you ready for me?” he asks. 

You bite your lip and nod. “Please,” is all you have the strength to say. “Please, Noctis, I...” 

You’re cut off as he slides into you for the first time, gripping hard at your ankles on his shoulders. You watch as his pretty face contorts in rapture as he buries himself to the hilt, filling you up and stretching you in the most satisfying way. You arch your back and groan, rolling your thick hips against him. 

“Noct,” you beg, nearly crying. “Please, baby, you gotta move. Fuck me, _please_.” 

His eyes pop open and he stares down at you, mouth hanging open, cheeks flushed pink, hair matted against his sweaty forehead. “As you wish,” he says, pulling out to the tip and guiding himself back in. 

When Noctis _finally_ pulls out of you, you’re nothing but a quivering mess. He’d come inside of you twice, and you feel absolutely used. His spend is leaking out of your pussy onto your poor sleeping bag, and his first orgasm is still sticky and half-dry on your thigh. He kisses you fiercely again, and your mind feels empty—all you can think about is _him._

_“_ _Noct_ _,”_ you croak out as he pulls away from your lips and rests his forehead on yours. 

“I love you so much,” he says quietly into the millimeters of space between you. “This was...incredible. I’m so happy that you’ve let me show you how much I care about you.” 

You nod, sniffing back tears and weakly bringing your hands to his slender back, delicately ghosting your fingertips over his old childhood scar. “I love you,” you reply. “I’m so...you are just. Everything.” 

Noctis giggles and presses a soft kiss to your lips. He gets up on shaky legs, bent at the waist because of the tent’s low ceiling, and unzips the tent flap halfway. 

“Prompto!” he calls. 


	12. Zero

0: Prompto

Prompto flies into the tent, already stripped down to his socks and his underwear, red tank top and gray pants bundled up in one hand, boots in the other. His eyes grow wide as he looks from you to Noct—the prince has already laid out on his sleeping bag, lying on his side, facing the tent’s opening. Prompto’s eyes rove hungrily over the naked prince, and his face blushes the deepest red. 

“Quit starin’,” teases Noctis. 

“Sorry, can’t help it,” Prompto mutters, voice already gravelly and lower than usual. He gestures Noct’s way. “I’ve fantasized about you since I was...well, old enough to think those kinds of things.” Prompto looks at you, then; naked on your back and coated in sweat and the prince’s sticky release, flushed with pleasure. “Don’t even get me started on you,” he says, shoving his clothes into his bag. “I know I talk a big simp game for other girls but like...you’re honestly the only one I want to do this with.” 

You laugh weakly and manage to sit up, stretching. “Yeah?” You raise an eyebrow, curious. “What if me and Cindy wanted a threesome?” 

Prompto bites his lip and whines. “I think I’d probably die.” 

You laugh and shake your head, beckoning Prompto over to your spot. He kneels on shaky knees in front of you, and you kneel to match him, closing the distance between the two of you. 

Prompto exhales softly through his mouth as you press you lips to his, and you moan quietly, a rush of excitement coursing through you as you _finally_ realize your fantasy of kissing the beautiful blond. You pull back after a minute, not wanting to overwhelm him. 

He gazes up at you through half-lidded eyes, violet-blue orbs blown wide with arousal. You gaze into his eyes as you feel his smooth fingertips trace light lines from behind your ear and down your neck, across your collarbones, and down to your chest. He takes the plunge and palms over the front of your left breast, breath hitching as he feels your hard, pert nipple against his hand. He squeezes gently, eyes fluttering closed—he actually tears up a little and sniffs, hard. 

“Prompto,” you sigh affectionately, leaning forward to rest your forehead on his. “It’s okay to be nervous, and it’s okay to cry.” 

He shakes his head, choking out a soft sob. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m just so, so in love with you—with _all_ of you, and I have been for so long, and now that we’re going to be together like this, I...I’m so afraid of losing it...it terrifies me.” 

You put cover his hand in yours and squeeze your breast again, hard. “I’ve been terrified since the day we left Insomnia,” you confess. “But listen. We’re here, _now_ —alive, and together. It’s like Noct said—MTs could take us all out tomorrow. We have tonight and each other. And that’s enough.” 

Prompto surges forward to catch your mouth in a furious, desperate kiss—he's like Noctis, inexperienced but enthusiastic and a quick learner, and soon he’s mimicking the movement of your own lips, finding his rhythm and growing bolder, exploring your mouth with his tongue. 

His soft moans and emotional sniffles are almost too much to bear. He seems so overwhelmed already, and you’re half-worried that he’s going to combust before he even gets to slide his cock into your pussy. You pull back and gaze again at his kiss-swollen lips, his ruddy, freckled face, his gorgeous eyes that are looking at you like you’re the only person in Eos. 

“Lie back,” you tell him, and Prompto scrambles to comply. 

His boxer shorts are, of course, yellow with a cartoonish chocobo print scattered across them. You can’t help but giggle as you hook your thumbs into the waistband and yank them down his legs and off around his ankles. He’s naked then, save for his thick black socks. His cock is already throbbing with interest, and your mouth waters at the sight of it. 

“Damn Prom,” Noctis calls, surprising you. “You’re really a grower, huh?” 

You turn to the prince. “I thought you were asleep!” 

“And miss seeing my two best friends fuck each other senseless? No way in hell I’m gonna sleep through _that_.” 

“Noct!” Prompto whines, looking from the prince back to you. He bites his lip. “I, um...” 

“You’re beautiful, Prompto,” you say as you grab the base of his thick cock in your hand. He cries out immediately, hips bucking wildly as you touch him for the first time, bare hands gripping the nylon sleeping bag underneath him. 

“Fuck!” he cries out, suddenly tensed up, cock filling out to full hardness in seconds. “Fuck, I’m not gonna last, I...” 

“On a hair trigger already, huh baby?” you tease, lowering yourself over his groin and flicking your tongue across the swollen, leaking head. 

Prompto lets go of the swishy material, one hand flying to cover his mouth as he moans low and dirty with just the gentlest of licks. You cover his cock head completely between your lips, swirling your tongue around it, moaning at the salty precum that’s already gathering at the tip. Steeling yourself, you take him to the hilt, burying your nose in his coarse blond pubic hair, staying there for as long as you can manage before coming up for air. 

Prompto’s hand is shaking as he covers his mouth, along with his whole slender, lean body, quivering when you’ve just barely gotten started. You give him the sloppiest blowjob you can, making sure to coat his angry red cock in your saliva and to suck on him like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do. His high-pitched needy whimpers and soft cries of your name only make you wetter, and you set a furious pace, desperate to get him off as fast as you possibly can. 

Prompto comes _hard_ in your mouth not ten minutes later, hands flying to grip your hair as he holds you down on his cock and chokes you on it, coming white-hot down your throat. He comes for a ridiculously long time, but even when he drops his hands and lets you up, his erection has only flagged a little. You turn back to Noctis, who’s flushed red as he gazes at his best friend’s rapture. You smile at the prince and he smiles back, nodding—as though you and Prompto are merely putting on a show for him. 

“___________,” Prompto groans, wrecked. 

“I’m here, Prom,” you say, turning to him and moving up his still-quivering body, covering it with your own. 

“Fuck,” he says as he feels your heavy form on top of him, arms flying up to encircle your back. He squishes you to him and swallows hard. “So...so soft...” 

“Did I make you feel good?” 

Prompto nods weakly. “Stupid question,” he whines. 

“You ready to go again?” 

Prompto gulps. “Yeah, but...first, uh, I was thinking...you could let me eat you out?” 

“Oh shit yeah,” you say, squirming on top of him. 

Prompto opens his eyes and looks at you, grinning wide. Damn, he looks so beautiful after he cums. The image is burned into your brain for eternity. “Obviously I’ve never done it before, but uh...I’ve watched a lot of videos. And um. I’ve read stuff. So...will you sit on my face?” 

Your eyes grow wide. “I love you, Prompto—but I’m a big girl. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

Prompto shakes his head. “If I die buried with my face in your pussy, it will have been worth it.” 

Noctis snorts in the background, laughing. 

“You’re dumb,” you say as you sit up to straddle him, walking on your knees toward his face. “Also, uh...you know Noct came inside of me, raw.” 

Prompto nods. “Even better.” 

Prompto wasn’t kidding about having done his research—you have to instruct him only a little at first before he completely takes over, eating you out like you’re his last meal on Eos. You try to keep a steady rhythm of rocking back and forth over his mouth, lifting up to let him get air—but his grip on your fat thighs is hard enough to bruise, and he seems more interested in gulping down your juices, and Noct’s sloppy seconds, than breathing. It doesn’t take long before you’re crying out high and needy, coming all over his pretty freckled face as his eager tongue laps up everything you have to give. When you finally try to pull away from the overstimulation, Prompto flips you onto your back in a surprising feat of strength—it's easy to forget how built he is, even if he isn’t as big as Gladio. You look at his solid arms to remind yourself who you’re dealing with. 

“Did I do okay?” he asks, clearing his throat and licking his lips. 

You nod, aftershocks of orgasm still thrumming through your thick body. “More than,” you pant breathlessly. 

“Can I make love to you now?” 

“I thought you’d never ask.” 


	13. Zero

0: Ignis 

Prompto crashes his lips against yours, moaning wantonly into your mouth as he shudders in his second release, thin freckled hips continuing to stutter inside of you of their own accord for another minute or two before stilling. Prompto stays buried inside of you, kissing you breathless. 

“___________,” he cries, finally pulling away and nosing at your neck. 

“Mmmmm, Prompto.” Gods, is that your voice? You sound so wrecked—you're suddenly incredibly thirsty, and not just for the prince and his friends. “Was that good for you?” 

Prompto huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. “Good,” he mumbles. “I can’t imagine my first time being any better than that.” He holds himself up on shaky arms. “I love you. You’re incredible. Thank...thank you for this.” Prompto smiles brightly at you, face flushed, lips kiss-swollen, violet-blue eyes wide with arousal. “Are you, um. You need anything?” 

“Water,” you croak, sitting up as Prompto scrambles for the small cooler in the corner. He tosses you a bottle of water and you down the whole thing in seconds, shivering in its refreshing chill. 

Noctis has actually kinda dozed off at this point—you look over to him and giggle. “I guess we gave Noct a good show to fall asleep to, huh?” 

Prompto laughs, shaking his head. “I can’t wait to cuddle that.” He turns back to you. “But uh...who do you want me to call in here next?” 

There’s no question. “Get Iggy in here.” 

Ignis climbs through the half-zipped tent, surveying the boys in the corner—Noctis is out and Prompto is wrapped around him, facing the tent wall—and you, flat out on your sleeping bag, sweaty and already fucked stupid, leaking cum all over the top of the nylon material. He levels his emerald gaze at you as you turn to stare at him. 

“What an exquisite sight,” Ignis says as he settles on his knees beside you. He’s still fully dressed, a stark contrast to the lack of clothes of everyone else. “Are you quite through deflowering our virginal friends?” He smirks. 

You laugh weakly and nod. “Yeah, I think I showed them a good time.” 

“I’m sure you did, kitten. The three of you were quite vocal. Gladio and I were struggling to give you privacy.” 

“I mean, when we’re all in a hotel next...I guess it won’t matter.” You shiver at the pet name that rolls from Ignis’ lips. _Kitten_. 

Ignis shakes his head. “That it will not. We overheard quite a bit—you instructed them in the art of pleasuring a woman, yes?” 

“Yeah, um. Noct fingered me, and I sat on Prompto’s face. He’s uh _...really_ good at that, even though he’s never done it before _.”_

Ignis chuckles. “I’d always pegged Prompto as a champion pussy eater; it seems my hunch was correct. In any case, I am glad that you have been taken care of.” 

“Yeah, no, I’m...I’m great,” you say, sighing heavily in both satisfaction and exhaustion. 

Ignis adjust his glasses. “I lack words to describe how I’m feeling at the moment, seeing you like this.” 

You bite your lip, staring into his beautiful face. “I’m sorry for everything, Iggy—really. I didn’t mean to like...torture you guys. In my head, you were the ones torturing _me_. I just never thought...” 

“No apologies needed, darling. But I am glad that this has all come to light, and that you realize how much we truly care about you.” 

“I’m not a turn-off?” You have to ask one more time, just to make sure. 

“Definitely not a turn off,” says Ignis. “May I kiss you?” 

“Please.” 

Ignis kisses like Ignis does everything else—with careful, practiced precision, calculated and perfect in every fluid motion. The taller adviser sweeps over your lips like he’s a rushing river, holding you fiercely and taking charge, barely letting you even reciprocate his moments. It’s no less passionate than kissing Noctis or Prompto, but it’s so different—dominant, overwhelming, experienced. Ignis steals your breath away, and you can’t even be arsed to ask for your oxygen back. He holds you in his arms like you’re made of the most delicate porcelain, and you find yourself softly weeping as he kisses you long and slow. 

“Delicious,” he says when he decides he’s gotten you hot and bothered enough. 

You whine when he pulls away, and you open your eyes to gaze at him. You reach out to his purple coeurl-print shirt and tug on where he’s got it unbuttoned at the top, collarbones and delicate skull pendant shamelessly on display. “You’re overdressed, Iggy,” you murmur. 

He smirks, tilting his head. “Why, so I am.” 

Of all the things you thought you knew about Ignis, you could’ve never guessed how rough he was capable of being. Once he had consent from you, it was like a switch had flipped. He’d gotten you on your back for starters, but while one of your thick legs was up over his sculpted shoulder, one of his hands was settled around your throat, squeezing in alternating rhythm, bringing you _just_ to the brink of gasping for air before letting up and letting oxygen rush back into your lungs and your brain. You’d initially imagined Iggy as making love softly, and you’re sure that he’s capable of such—but right now, he seems hell-bent on using you as nothing more than a cocksleeve, a tool for his pleasure. 

Which is totally, _completely_ fine. 

You were right about one thing, though—Ignis is big on praising you. 

“Oh, you’re such a good girl,” he purrs as he pounds into you mercilessly. “So wet and open—Noctis and Prompto did _such_ a good job of opening you up and pumping you full of cum, didn’t they, kitten?” 

With his long, deft fingers holding your neck down against your bedroll, you can only gasp and nod in agreement. 

“You’re so lovely like this, ________,” Ignis continues, pulling his long, curved cock out to the tip and slamming it back into your used, sensitive pussy, making you shake as he hits a new angle with every long drag of his length. “Our beautiful, smart, selfless, funny woman—gods, how could we four not fall head over heels for you?” 

You begin to cry softly as Ignis holds his hand firm at your throat, hips bucking wildly as he fucks you with reckless abandon. He leans down low over you to ghost his full lips against yours—and then he pulls out suddenly, and swiftly flips you onto your stomach, adjusting your legs so that you’re kneeling on your sleeping bag, face pressed into your pillow. He threads his fingers into your hair and holds you steady with one hand as he enters you from behind. 

“ _Ignis_!” you cry, bucking back against him with as much force as you can muster. Your legs are quivering, pussy dripping and swollen and sensitive—the slap of his full sac against your core has you moaning like a bitch in heat, and you don’t even care who hears you—it only seems to spur Ignis on faster. Gods, how could you have predicted that Ignis would fuck you so thoroughly and primally? “Gods, Iggy, fuck— _fuck me_!” 

Ignis gives one final grunt as his cock swells inside of you, throbbing and spilling his release deep into your thick body. You’re shaking, strength to hold yourself up hanging by a thread. You feel Ignis pull out of you and slap you hard on the ass, which makes you just sob even more. He leans onto your back as you collapse flat on your tummy, shaking and attempting to get in control of your breathing. You feel him stroke your hair and pepper kisses along your shoulder blades. 

“Look at how filthy I’ve made you, kitten,” he murmurs into your skin. “Do you think I’ve adequately added to the debauchery of this evening?” 

You can barely move, barely think. You can only nod, sniffing hard. “Love you,” you whisper into your pillow, erupting into goosebumps at Ignis’ gentle touches. 

“I love you too, darling. You’ve made me feel so incredible. Are you ready for Gladio to take care of you now?” 

You think you might actually die—but if Gladio fucks you to death, who are you to fight fate? 

“Gladio,” you repeat, having a sudden, overwhelming urge to be wrapped up in big, beefy, tattooed arms. “Want him.” 

“Of course you do, love. Just a moment.” 


	14. Zero

0: Gladio

The shield unzips the tent flap, letting it fall open to let in the full effect of the fire he'd made hours before. Ignis is wiping you down with a wet cloth and making sure you drink water, stroking your hair and kissing your forehead. He’d put back on his boxer-briefs, and his tight, lean body is bathed in a faint sheen of sweat. You don’t think you could ever get tired of looking at him. His hair is down, but his glasses are still on—he takes them off, though, as he hears Gladio approach. 

“Ah, there’s our final act of the evening.” 

Gladio smiles wide at Ignis, nodding. “Shit, you look good, Iggy.” 

“Ah-ah, there’ll be time for that later. Right now, let’s focus on our little kitten, shall we?” Ignis gets up on his knees and shuffles to his sleeping bag at the tent’s opening, lying on his side so that he can watch you and Gladio make love. 

You feel yourself blush as Gladio swiftly discards his tank top. 

“Hi baby girl,” he says, dragging a hand down the side of your chubby face and cupping it. 

“Hey,” you croak, setting the water bottle aside. 

“Gods, you look even better than I imagined. All that teasing...the hot springs, wet t-shirt...” Gladio’s eyes gloss over with arousal. “I can finally have you. Is that what you want?” 

“I think you’ll probably kill me after what the other three have done to me, but I’m not going to stop you.” 

Gladio gruffs out a laugh and lies on his back, shuffling out of his white jeans and underwear and boots in record time. Your eyes nearly bug out of your head as you see his massive cock—and he’s not even hard yet. 

Yep. This is it. Goodbye, ___________. You’d done your duty by jumping in front of Noctis, and now the prince and his retainers are going to send you to the great beyond with their dicks. What a good life, you idly think as Gladio folds his clothes and turns to you. 

“I overheard a lot,” he says, voice thick with lust. “You showed the two twinks how to handle a woman, didn’t you?” 

You giggle at the term and nod. “Noct and Prom did good, yeah. I got off.” 

“And Iggy gave it to you hard and fast, I bet.” 

You nod, fingers dancing around your sore throat. “Am I bruising yet?” 

Gladio smirks. “Oh, we’ll have to see the damage tomorrow, sweetheart. So here’s the deal. You tell me how this is gonna go.” 

You drag your gaze over Gladio’s toned, tattooed body. He’s taken to lightly stroking his cock, and you watch with lust as it twitches with interest. “Uh,” you say, getting distracted. “Can I sit on your lap? And ride you?” 

“Oh hell _yes,_ baby, that sounds perfect. C’mere.” 

You crawl over to Gladio and climb into his lap, wrapping your arms around his thick neck and shoulders, locking your ankles around the small of his back. He crushes you into a hug, and you feel the tension almost instantly leave your body. You nuzzle your face into his neck and suck on his skin as he runs his hands up and down your back, squeezing. 

“You feel so damn good, baby,” Gladio purrs, that deep rumbling voice nearly lulling you to sleep. “I bet you’re so wet and open, so stretched out and hot for me, aren’t you?” 

You nod as you dig your short, blunt nails into his chiseled back. The motion only seems to spur him on. He wedges his hands between your bodies and grabs both of your heavy breasts roughly, pushing you back so that you’re face to face with him. 

“These _tits_ ,” Gladio growls, squeezing and palming roughly, pinching at your nipples. “Fuckin’ _perfect_. Gods, I’ve dreamed about this...” 

You shake your head in disbelief. Gladio falls asleep with _Sports Illustrated_ on his face. Gladio talks about Cindy, and—Aranea, that was her name!--Aranea, like it’s going out of style. Gladio chats up random women at the gas stations. And _none_ of them look like you. “You sure you like me that much? I’m not just a convenient fuck?” 

“Let me show you,” Gladio says, a little softer, and leans in to slot his wide, full mouth against yours. 

Gladiolus Amicitia absolutely devours you, kissing you with relentless passion as he squeezes and pinches hard at your breasts. You can only let your jaw hang open to allow him access, letting him take the lead, trying to keep up. You kiss him back like you’ve dreamed of so many nights—this sexy, _sexy_ man who also happens to be one of your best friends. Gladio begins to rock his hips, and suddenly you feel his huge dick sliding along your ass. He pulls away and levels his gaze at you. 

“You can take it, I know you can.” 

You nod weakly. “I’m sturdy,” you say, wiggling in his lap, fat tummy and thighs jiggling with the motion. 

Gladio laughs and squeezes lovingly at your plush stomach, moving down and running his hands up your thighs, ticking the hair that you haven’t shaved in weeks. “Like a little furry moogle,” he says, kissing down your jaw and sucking a mark on the side of your neck. 

“Ah--Gladdy, stop teasing,” you say. 

Gladio groans at the nickname and moves one big hand around to your fat ass, squeezing and then slapping it.”Gonna fuck this cunt so good, baby.” 

You lift your hips and scoot closer, burying your face in the side of his neck again. Gladio helps to hold you up in one hand, and he grabs the base of his cock in the other, holding it steady as he helps you slide down onto him. 

You squeeze your eyes tight as you feel him enter you—Noctis and Prompto are average length but thick in girth; Ignis is longer, but smaller around, and slightly curved—but Gladio is long _and_ thick, and he fills you up so much you swear you can feel him in your throat. Both of you moan at the contact, and you sniff back tears of pleasure as you sink lower and lower onto him. 

“ _Gods_ , baby girl,” Gladio moans, squeezing you tight again. “You’re so fuckin’ _soft_ , you feel so damn good...so wet and open...” 

You can only cry out in pleasure and nod as you hang on for dear life. Your body is thrumming with heat from your head to your toes, and you’re exhausted, barely having the energy to try and match Gladio’s rhythm. “Gladio, I...I can’t...m’tired...” 

“Sssshhhh, I’ve got you, baby. Let me.” Gladio slides those huge hands down around to your ass and squeezes, lifting you up and back down onto his hot, hard cock. 

The motion punches a wrecked groan from deep within your throat, and your vision starts to get hazy. Gathering up all of your coherent brain cells that are left, you lift your head up to his ear and whisper. “If I pass out, don’t stop fucking me.” 

“If that’s what you want, _________,” Gladio moans, continuing to rock inside of you, dragging his huge cock along your over-sensitive walls. “Goddamn, I love you so much, so so much...” 

“Ruin me,” you mumble into Gladio’s tanned skin. “Fuck me until I can’t remember my name.” 

Gladio’s body shakes with the rumble of deep laughter. “Don’t worry, I plan on it.” 

“Wanted to say that since I was sixteen...oh, _fuck_...” Gladio gives a particularly hard thrust that makes your thick thighs quiver around his snatched waist. You feel yourself slipping more and more into a daze as Gladio steadily pushes up into you. You vaguely register his praises and dirty talk, and the last thing you remember is the feel of his teeth in the meat of your shoulder. 

________ 

When you wake, you’re being wiped with a wet cloth, inside and out. You blink your eyes open and see Gladio’s concerned face instantly soften. 

“Hey, she’s back,” he says, pushing a lock of hair behind your ear. 

Rustling, then a slender hand on your back, helping you sit up—Prompto. You scrub at your eyes and look around—all of the guys are looking at you, now, smiling with affection. You’re all still naked, except for Ignis in his boxer shorts. 

“Uh,” you say, and wow—you sound like a chain smoker. You cough and try again. “Hi.” 

“Hi,” says Noctis, grinning. 

He’s so beautiful when he genuinely smiles. You lean forward and peck him on the lips. 

“Did you enjoy yourself, darling?” asks Ignis, brushing his knuckles along the top of your shoulder. 

You shiver and nod, turning to him and Gladio. “That’s like the understatement of the century. So...I really did black out, huh?” 

Gladio chuckles. “Trust me, you weren’t out long. When I felt you go limp in my arms, it was all over. I couldn’t hold back anymore.” 

You flash him a toothy grin. “Damn, we’re a couple of kinky bastards, huh?” 

Prompto reaches out to run his fingers through your hair. “I’m, uh...I’m really happy right now, I gotta admit.” He sighs. “So, we’re all like...together?” 

“A polyship road trip, as it were,” says Ignis. 

Noctis snorts at the joke. “I like it. My own personal harem.” 

“Okay, don’t go getting a big head, Princess,” teases Gladio. 

“Just sayin,” says Noctis. “I mean...” He looks around at the guys. “I can’t wait to fuck you guys. Or have you fuck me.” 

“I am totally down for watching this,” you say. “Ugh, it’s not fair. You guys are so hot.” 

“And so are you,” says Ignis with finality. He yawns. “Beg pardon, I didn’t realize I was so tired.” 

“Long night,” says Prompto in agreement. “I’m beat.” 

“Let’s turn in,” agrees Ignis. “We’ve nowhere to be.” 

“It’s nice to just exist,” Noctis yawns, nodding as he pulls Prompto by the arm back onto his sleeping bag. 

The guys scramble to get back into boxer shorts, and Ignis digs out a fresh pair of panties from your bag and hands them to you, along with one of your cotton gowns. He helps you wipe off your sleeping bag, and then you snuggle inside of it, falling asleep with your head between Prompto’s shoulder blades, the feeling of Ignis’ long arm slung over the both of you. 

This time your heart is beating wildly for a very different reason—and for the first time in years, you feel wholly complete. 


	15. Epilogue

“Oh _fuck,_ _Gladio_ _...!”_ Prompto’s pleas of Gladio’s name are cut off, only a punched-out groan following as Gladio holds him face down and ass up into the plush mattress. Gladio’s hands are so big on Prompto’s body, it’s hard to look away. Prompto’s taking it like a champ, screaming into the pillows as Gladio fucks him. It’s straight out of your wildest fantasies—and the strawberry lube is on the bedside table, half-used already. 

“Hey,” says Noctis, a little breathless. “Look at me.” 

How can you do anything except obey your liege? You snap your head back to where Noctis is settled in front of you—his own cock is gliding in and out of Ignis’ tight channel. The adviser’s hands are gripping your fat waist hard enough to bruise as you slowly rock back and forth on his long, throbbing length. 

“Noct,” you breathe as your eyes flutter closed. You feel one of the prince’s slender hands reach out and cup your round face, and you lean into it instinctively. 

“How ya holdin’ up?” 

You grin and bite your lip, giving a few well-timed gyrations of your hips, causing a loud moan to rip from Ignis’ throat. “I’m great,” you say as you feel your inner walls grip Ignis like a vice. 

“Love, _please_ \--” chokes Ignis, squeezing harder and harder at your hips, waist, upper thighs. 

“Looks like Iggy’s doing just fine,” you say, leaning forward to press a kiss to the corner of Noct’s mouth. 

“Please,” begs Ignis again, not really caring who he’s addressing at this point. 

Noctis huffs out a laugh and momentarily looks to the scene on the other bed—Gladio is giving Prompto no mercy as he fucks him on all fours like an animal. 

“Damn, I wish I could record that.” Noctis slides out of Ignis and then back in, causing Ignis’ cock to throb even more inside of you. You whine as you lean forward to rest your arms on Noct’s slender shoulders. 

“He’s so _long_ ,” you whine, rocking back and forth. 

“He’s making you feel so good, isn’t he,” coos Noctis, nibbling on your earlobe. 

You sniff hard and nod, focusing on keeping some sort of rhythm. Ignis is staying completely still, letting you and Noctis fuck him at your pleasure. Noct squints his eyes and exhales hard through his nose. 

“M’close,” he mumbles. “Hang on.” 

You can’t help but chuckle. Noct’s close—for the third time. He’d already fucked your tits while Ignis prepped himself on the bed right next to you, and then he’d slid into Ignis with a sound you didn’t know he was capable of making. You’d sat on Ignis’ face and he’d eaten you out to glorious release, then begged you to sit on his cock while Noctis took his ass. 

Originally, you were kind of worried that there would be some jealousy, that the guys would eventually start to cling more to themselves and exclude you—but your worries have been unfounded. Ignis kisses Prompto just as much as he kisses you or Gladio, and in some weird way, it works. The fact that you have not one, but _four_ boyfriends is still so overwhelming, and the guys seem to dote on you with every chance that they get, from little pieces of jewelry found on sale at the downtown markets to random back massages and cuddles after a particularly hard battle. 

Noct’s eyes grow rounder the longer he looks at Prompto getting destroyed by Gladio’s hard fucking, and he suddenly turns his head back to you and bites your meaty shoulder, crying out loud as he spills his third load into Ignis’ pert ass. The adviser cries out helplessly and takes over once Noctis pulls out and flops to the side, gripping you and thrusting his hips up and up and _up_ until he explodes into your wet pussy, making you shake and gyrate your hips faster and faster, milking him for everything he’s worth. 

Noctis helps you off of him and you collapse into the prince’s chest, feeling Ignis coming up to snuggle your back, all three of you still shaking in the aftershocks. 

“Aw, hey, they’re cuddling without us.” 

Prompto’s wrecked voice emanates from the other side of the room, as does Gladio’s deep chuckle. “How rude. C’mon Blondie, we can cuddle, show ‘em what they’re missing.” 

Ignis snorts, but Noctis is already asleep. You manage to lean up on one elbow to see Prompto and Gladio on the other bed, cleaning up and fluffing the pillows. 

“Go on and join them, darling,” Ignis purrs, stroking your hair. “I shall hold our resident narcoleptic.” 

You laugh out loud and kiss Ignis, then kiss Noct’s forehead, climbing over the dozing prince and stumbling on shaky legs to the other bed. 

“Yessssss,” Prompto sings, holding out his arms. Gladio’s behind him, being the big spoon, resting his giant hand on Prompto’s slender hip. “Soft woman parking only.” He pats the space between him and the edge of the bed. 

“Had fun over there, baby?” asks Gladio as you slip under the covers, pressing yourself tight to Prompto’s front. 

Prompto wiggles in delight, and you feel Gladio’s hand dance along the edge of your skin. 

“Yeah,” you yawn, suddenly tired. “Think I need a nap, though.” 

“We all should get some sleep,” mumbles Prompto. “Big day tomorrow.” 

You nod. There are some nasty daemons outside of Lestallum that you’ve picked up the bounty for—all of you need to be operating at top capacity. 

“Hey, um. I love you.” You speak the words into Prompto’s skin, but everyone knows that you’re talking to the whole room. 

“We love you too, baby girl,” says Gladio, kissing the back of Prompto’s neck. 

“Very much,” calls Ignis, yawning as he holds Noct. 

“The muchest,” agrees Prompto, kissing you softly. 

You giggle and fall into a satisfied, dreamless sleep in the arms of your lovers. Even though the world has gone to shit, knowing that you have the prince and his friends by your side gives you the strength and resolve to face the unknown future head-on. 

And, well, if you have stunningly good marathon sex along the way—well, you’re not complaining. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much to everyone that has followed along with me from the beginning. This was a wild ride and I'm so happy I saw it through to completion. Thank you again--you guys help keep me motivated. Your comments and kudos mean the world. I love y'all.

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all be patient, I promise I have an endgame and a plan for this one! Thanks as always for reading!


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